ttlt 

TO  THE  HOMES  OF  EMINENT  ORATORS 


Vol.  XIII.  JULY,  1903.  No.  i 


By  ELBERT  HUBBARD 


Single  Copies,  25  cents  By  the  Year,  $3.00 


LITTLE  JOURNEYS 

TO     THE    HOMES     OF 

EMINENT    ORATORS 

By  ELBERT  HUBBARD 


SUBJECTS     AS     FOLLOWS 


i  Pericles 
2  Mark  Antony 
3  Savonarola 
4  Martin  Luther 
5  Edmund  Burke 
6  William  Pitt 

7  Marat 
8  Robert  Ihgerspll 
9  John  Randolph 
10  Thomas  Starr  King 
ii  Henry  Ward  Beecher      « 
12  Wendell  Phillips 

One  booklet  a  month  will  be  issued  as  usual,  begin 
ning  on  January  ist. 

The  LITTLE  JOURNEYS  for  1903  will  be  strictly 
de  luxe  in  form  and  wprkmanship.  The  type  will  be  a 
new  font  of  antique  blackface ;  the  initials  designed 
especially  for  this  work;  a  frontispiece  portrait  from 
the  original  drawing  made  at  our  Shop.  The  booklets 
will  be  stitched  by  hand  with  silk. 
The  price — 25  cents  each,  or  $3.00  for  the  year. 

Address   THE   ROYCROFTERS   at  their 
Shop,   which  is  at  East  Aurora,   New   York 

Entered  at  the  postoffice  at  East  Aurora,  New  York,  for  transmission 
as  second-class  mail  matter.   Copyright,   1902,  by  Elbert  Hubbard 


Hcitc  *$  to  tbc  tHan 
ttlbo  Can  Do  Chinas! 


WE  live  in  a  day  of  specialization.  Let  a 
man  prove  to  the  world  that  he  can 
do  a  thing  in  a  masterly  way,  and  we 
lay  all  honors  at  his  feet.  He  is  carry 
ing  the  world's  burdens.  For  instance,  we  must 
have  food — good,  wholesome,  palatable  food,  and 
we  want  it  daintily  served.  H.  J.  HEINZ  Co.  have 
done  the  world  a  wonderful  service  with  their 
FIFTY-SEVEN  VARIETIES  of  food  products.  The 
world  wanted  HEINZ — he  came  in  response  to  the 
law  of  supply  and  demand,  and  lo!  Heinz  was. 
Also  the  Fifty-seven!  The  saving  of  labor  to  the 
housekeeper,  and  the  saving  in  wear  and  tear  of 
nerves  in  knowing  that  if  it  is  Heinz  it  is  absolutely 
right  and  the  guests  will  be  properly  served,  is 
incomputable.  HEINZ  has  added  to  our  length  of 
days, — extended  the  expectancy  of  life — and  kept 
women  young  by  rendering  housekeeping  a  de 
light.  It  is  a  great  satisfaction  to  know  you  can 
always  fall  back  on  HEINZ,  tytlt  '$  tO 


PHALANSTERY 

The  word  was  first  used  by  Fourier,  and 
means  literally  "the  home  of  friends.*'  The 
ROYCROFT  PHALANSTERY,  with  its  new 
addition,  just  completed,  consists  of  a  kitchen, 
scientific  and  modern  in  all  of  its  appointments; 
a  dining-room  that  seats  a  hundred  people; 
thirty-eight  sleeping  rooms;  reception  rooms, 
etc.,  etc.  That  is  to  say  it  is  an  INN,  managed 
somewhat  like  a  Swiss  Monastery,  simple,  yet 
complete  in  all  of  its  appointments  —  where  the 
traveler  is  made  welcome.  There  are  always  a 
few  visitors  with  us.  Some  remain  simply  for  a 
meal,  others  stay  a  day,  or  a  week,  or  a  month. 
A  few  avail  themselves  of  the  services  of  our 
Musical  Director,  the  Physical  Instructor,  or 
take  lessons  in  drawing  and  painting.  C.  The 
prices:  Meals,  such  as  they  are,  say  twenty- 
five  cents;  lodging,  fifty  cents.  If  parties  of  a 
dozen  or  more  want  accommodations,  it  is  well 
to  telegraph  ahead  to  THE  BURSAR  of 

THE     ROYCROFTERS 

EAST    AURORA,     NEW     YORK 


HE  BEST  VALUE, 

perhaps,  in  Roycroft  Books  is 
in  the  De  Luxe  copies  of  the 
LITTLE  JOURNEYS.  These 
Volumes  are  One  Dollar  each, 
and  they  are  the  only  One  Dol 
lar  books  the  Roycrofters  have  ever  made  or 
will  ever  make.  On  hand-made  paper,  bound 
in  limp  chamois,  silk  lined,  silk  marker,  hand- 
illumined.  We  have  a  few  on  hand  of  each  of 
the  following  subjects: 


William  Morris 

Robert  Burns 

Macaulay 

Southey 

Robert  Browning 

John  Milton 

Byron 

Coleridge 

Tennyson 

Samuel  John  son 

Addison 

Disraeli 

Wagner 

Mozart 

Liszt 

Verdi 

Paganini 

Bach 

Beethoven 

Schumann 

Chopin 

Mendelssohn 

Handel 

Brahms 

Raphael 

Thorwaldsen 

Corot 

Cellini 

Leonardo 

Gainsborough 

Correggio 

Abbey 

Botticelli 

Velasquez 

Gian  Bellini 

Whistler 

Just  One  Dollar  each — there  is  no  profit  in  these  books 
for  us,  but  they  keep  our  boys  and  girls  busy,  and 
show  the  world  what  we  can  do. 

The  Roycrofters,  East  Aurora 


POWERFUL 

A  Pure  Food  Drink  Has 
Great  Sustaining  Power. 

The  sustaining  power  of  Postum  Coffee  when 
properly  cooked  is  greater  than  most  people 
imagine  and  it  is  well  illustrated  in  the  story 
told  by  a  young  Texas  woman  who  says  :  "  I  al 
most  lived  on  Postum  Cereal  Coffee  for  over  a 
month  and  there  was  over  a  week  I  did  not  eat 
anything  at  all  but  just  drank  the  food  drink  Pos 
tum  and  yet  I  grew  stronger  and  gained  in  weight. 
"Our  family  physician  examined  Postum  and 
decided  to  use  it  altogether  in  place  of  coffee. 
We  all  think  it  has  no  equal  as  a  nourishment 
for  the  sick  for  beside  being  pleasant  to  the  taste 
it  is  so  strengthening.  My  father  and  mother  have 
always  been  coffee  drinkers  and  suffered  all  kinds 
of  troubles  from  the  coffee  until  about  a  year  ago 
a  neighbor  was  praising  Postum  and  mother 
decided  to  try  it. 

"They  improved  at  once  and  have  drank  Postum 
ever  since  and  mother,  who  used  to  be  bothered 
with  nervousness  and  sleeplessness  particularly, 
is  in  splendid  health  now.  She  says  the  change 
came  entirely  from  drinking  Postum  and  leaving 
off  coffee."  Name  given  by  Postum  Company, 
Battle  Creek,  Michigan. 


GIFT   OF 
Dr. Robert  T.Sutherland 


Little 

pounneys 

To  the  Homes  of 

EMINENT 

[ORATORS 

arat 

Written  by  Elbent 
Hubband  6  done 
into  a  Book  by  the 
Royci*oftei*$  at  the 
Shop,  icbicb  is  in 
East  Jluttotta,  Deto 
Yoitk,  H.  D.  1908 


cm 


JEAN  PAUL  MARAT 


CITIZENS:  You  see  before  you  the  widow  of  Marat.  I  do  not 
^  come  here  to  ask  your  favors,  such  as  cupidity  would  covet,  or 
even  such  as  would  relieve  indigence, — Marat's  widow  needs  no 
more  than  a  tomb.  Before  arriving  at  that  happy  termination  to  my 
existence,  however,  I  come  to  ask  that  justice  may  be  done  in  respect 
to  the  reports  recently  put  forth  in  this  body  against  the  memory  of 
at  once  the  most  intrepid  and  the  most  outraged  defender  of  the 
people.  ***** 

— SIMONNE  EVRARD  MARAT,  to  the  Convention. 


JEAN    PAUL    MARAT 


|HE  French  Revolution  traces  a  lineal 
descent  direct  from  Voltaire  and  Jean 
Jacques  Rousseau.  These  men  were 
contemporaries ;  they  came  to  the  same 
conclusions,  expressing  the  same 
thought,  each  in  his  own  way,  absolute 
ly  independent  of  the  other.  And  as 
genius  seldom  recognizes  genius,  neither 
knew  the  greatness  of  the  other. 
Voltaire  was  an  aristocrat — the  friend 
of  kings  and  courtiers,  the  brilliant 
cynic,  the  pet  of  the  salons  and  the  cen 
ter  of  the  culture  and  brains  of  his  time. 
Q  Rousseau  was  a  man  of  the  people, 
plain  and  unpretentious — a  man  with 
out  ambition — a  dreamer.  His  first  writ 
ings  were  mere  debating-society  mono 
logues,  done  for  his  own  amusement 
and  the  half  dozen  or  so  cronies  who 
cared  to  listen. 

But,  as  he  wrote,  things  came  to  him — 
the  significance  of  his  words  became  to 
him  apparent.  Opposition  made  it  neces 
sary  to  define  his  position,  and  threat 
made  it  wise  to  amplify  and  explain. 
He  grew  through  exercise,  as  all  men 
do  who  grow  at  all;  the  spirit  of  the 
times  acted  upon  him,  and  knowledge 
unrolled  as  a  scroll. 


JEAN    PAUL    MARAT 


The  sum  of  Rousseau's  political  philosophy  found 
embodiment  in  his  book,  "The  Social  Contract,"  and 
his  ideas  on  education  in  "Lavania."  "The  Social 
Contract"  became  the  bible  of  the  Revolution,  and  as 
Emerson  says  all  of  our  philosophy  will  be  found  in 
Plato,  so  in  a  more  exact  sense  can  every  argument 
of  the  men  of  the  Revolution  be  found  in  "The  Social 
Contract."  But  Rousseau  did  not  know  what  fire 
brands  he  was  supplying.  He  was  essentially  a  man 
of  peace— he  launched  these  children  of  his  brain,  in 
differently,  like  his  children  of  the  flesh,  upon  the 
world  and  left  their  fate  to  the  god  of  Chance. 


OUT  of  the  dust  and  din  of  the  French  Revo 
lution,  now  seen  by  us  on  the  horizon  of  time, 
there  emerge  four  names :  Robespierre,  Mira- 
beau,  Danton  and  Marat. 

Undaunted  men  all,  hated  and  loved,  feared  and  idol 
ized,  despised  and  deified — even  yet  we  find  it  hard  to 
gauge  their  worth,  and  give  due  credit  for  the  good 
that  was  in  each. 

Oratory  played  a  most  important  part  in  bringing 
about  the  explosion.  Oratory  arouses  passion — fear, 
vengeance,  hate — and  draws  a  beautiful  picture  of 
peace  and  plenty  just  beyond. 

Without  oratory  there  would  have  been  no  political 
revolution  in  France,  nor  elsewhere. 
Politics,  more  than  any  other  function  of  human  affairs, 


JEAN    PAUL    MARAT 


turns  on  oratory.  Orators  make  and  unmake  kings, 
but  kings  are  seldom  orators,  and  orators  never  secure 
thrones.  Orators  are  made  to  die — the  cross,  the  torch, 
the  noose,  the  guillotine,  the  dagger  awaits  them. 
They  die  through  the  passion  that  they  fan  to  flame — 
the  fear  they  generate  turns  upon  themselves,  and 
they  are  no  more. 

But  they  have  their  reward.  Their  names  are  not  writ 
in  water,  rather  are  they  traced  in  blood  on  history's 
page.  We  know  them,  while  the  ensconced  smug  and 
successful  have  sunk  into  oblivion;  and  if  now  and 
then  a  name  like  that  of  Pilate  or  Caiphas  or  Judas 
comes  to  us,  it  is  only  because  fate  has  linked  the 
man  to  his  victim,  like  unto  that  Roman  soldier  who 
thrust  his  spear  into  the  side  of  the  Unselfish  Man. 
Q  In  the  qualities  that  mark  the  four  chief  orators  of  the 
French  Revolution,  there  is  much  alloy — much  that 
seems  like  clay.  Each  had  undergone  an  apprentice 
ship  to  Fate — each  had  been  preparing  for  his  work; 
and  in  this  preparation  who  shall  say  what  lessons 
could  have  been  omitted  and  what  not!  Explosions 
require  time  to  prepare — revolutions,  political  and 
domestic,  are  a  long  time  getting  ready.  Orators,  like 
artists,  must  go  as  did  Dante,  down  into  the  nether 
regions  and  get  a  glimpse  of  hell. 


JEAN    PAUL    MARAT 


JEAN  PAUL  MARAT  was  exactly  five  feet  high, 
and  his  weight  when  at  his  best  was  one  hundred 
and  twenty  pounds — just  the  weight  of  Shakes 
peare.  Jean  Paul  had  a  nose  like  the  beak  of  a  hawk, 
an  eye  like  an  eagle,  a  mouth  that  matched  his  nose, 
and  a  chin  that  argued  trouble.  Not  only  did  he  have 
red  hair,  but  Carlyle  refers  to  him  as  "  red-headed." 
QHis  parents  were  poor  and  obscure  people,  and  his 
relationship  with  them  seems  a  pure  matter  of  acci 
dent.  He  was  born  at  the  village  of  Beaudry,  Switzer 
land,  in  1743.  His  childhood  and  boyhood  were  that  of 
any  other  peasant  boy  born  into  a  family  where  poverty 
held  grim  sway,  and  toil  and  hardship  never  relaxed 
their  chilling  grasp. 

His  education  was  of  the  chance  kind — but  education 
anyway  depends  upon  yourself — colleges  only  supply 
a  few  opportunities,  and  it  lies  with  the  student 
whether  he  will  improve  them  or  not. 
The  ignorance  of  his  parents  and  the  squalor  of  his 
surroundings  acted  upon  Jean  Paul  Marat  as  a  spur, 
and  from  his  fourteenth  year  the  idea  of  cultivating 
his  mental  estate  was  strong  upon  him. 
Switzerland  has  ever  been  the  refuge  of  the  man  who 
dares  to  think.  It  was  there  John  Calvin  lived,  de 
manding  the  right  to  his  own  belief,  but  occasionally 
denying  others  that  precious  privilege;  a  few  miles 
away  at  beautiful  Coppet  resided  Madame  de  Stael, 
the  daughter  of  Necker;  at  Geneva,  Rousseau  wrote, 
and  to  name  that  beautiful  little  island  in  the  Rhone 


JEAN    PAUL    MARAT 


after  him,  was  not  necessary  to  make  his  fame  endure ; 
but  a  little  way  from  Beaudry  lived  Voltaire,  pointing 
his  bony  finger  at  every  hypocrite  in  Christendom. 
QBut  as  in  Greece,  in  her  days  of  glory,  the  thinkers 
were  few;  so  in  Switzerland,  the  land  of  freedom,  the 
many  have  been,  and  are,  chained  to  superstition. 
Jean  Paul  Marat  saw  their  pride  was  centered  in  a 
silver  crucifix,  "that  keeps  a  man  from  harm,"  their 
conscience  committed  to  a  priest;  their  labors  for  the 
rich;  their  days  the  same,  from  the  rising  of  the  sun 
to  its  going  down.  They  did  not  love,  and  their  hate 
was  but  a  peevish  dislike.  They  followed  their  dull 
routine  and  died  the  death,  hopeful  that  they  would 
get  the  reward  in  another  world  which  was  denied 
them  in  this.  QAnd  Jean  Paul  Marat  grew  to  scorn 
the  few  who  would  thus  enslave  the  many.  For  priest 
and  publican  he  had  only  aversion. 
Jean  Paul  Marat,  the  bantam,  read  Voltaire  and 
steeped  himself  in  Rousseau,  and  the  desire  grew 
strong  upon  him  to  do,  and  dare,  and  to  become. 
Tourists  had  told  him  of  England,  and  like  all  hopeful 
and  child-like  minds,  he  imagined  the  excellent  to  be 
far-off,  and  the  splendid  at  a  distance :  Great  Britain 
was  to  him  the  Land  of  Promise. 

In  the  countenance  of  young  Marat  was  a  strange 
mixture  of  the  ludicrous  and  terrible.  This,  with 
his  insignificant  size,  and  a  bodily  strength  that 
was  a  miracle  of  surprise,  won  the  admiration  of  an 
English  gentleman ;  and  when  the  tourist  started  back 


JEAN    PAUL    MARAT 


for  Albion,  the  lusty  dwarf  rode  on  the  box,  duly  ar 
ticled,  without  consent  of  his  parents,  as  a  valet. 
QAs  a  servant  he  was  active,  alert,  intelligent,  atten 
tive.  He  might  have  held  his  position  indefinitely,  and 
been  handed  down  to  the  next  generation  with  the 
family  plate,  had  he  kept  a  civil  tongue  in  his  red 
head  and  not  quoted  Descartes  and  Jean  Jacques. 
QHe  had  ideas,  and  he  expressed  them.  He  was  the 
central  sun  below-stairs,  and  passed  judgment  upon 
the  social  order  without  stint,  even  to  occasionally 
argufying  economics  with  his  master,  the  Baron,  as 
he  brushed  his  breeches. 

This  Baron  is  known  to  history  through  two  facts — 
one,  that  Jean  Paul  Marat  brushed  his  breeches,  and 
second,  that  he  evolved  a  new  breed  offices. 
Now  the  master  was  rich,  with  an  entail  of  six  thou 
sand  acres  and  an  income  of  five  thousand  pounds,  and 
very  naturally  he  was  surprised — amazed — to  hear 
that  any  one  should  question  the  divine  origin  of  the 
social  order  &  jf 

Religion  and  government  being  at  that  time  not  merely 
second  cousins,  but  Siamese  twins,  Jean  Paul  had  ex 
pressed  himself  on  things  churchly  as  well  as  secular. 
QAnd  now,  behold,  one  fine  day  he  found  himself 
confronted  with  a  charge  of  blasphemy,  not  to  men 
tion  another  damning  count  of  contumacy  and  con 
travention  iff  JF 

In  fact,  he  was  commanded  not  to  think,  and  was 
cautioned  as  to  the  sin  of  having  ideas.  The  penalties 


JEAN    PAUL    MARAT 


were  pointed  out  to  Jean  Paul,  and  in  all  kindness  he 
was  asked  to  make  choice  between  immediate  punish 
ment  and  future  silence. 

Thus  was  the  wee  philosopher  raised  at  once  to  the 
dignity  of  a  martyr;  and  the  sweet  satisfaction  of  be 
ing  persecuted  for  what  he  believed,  was  his. 
The  city  of  Edinburgh  was  not  far  away,  and  thither 
by  night  the  victim  of  persecution  made  his  way. 
There  is  a  serio-comic  touch  to  this  incident  that 
Marat  was  never  quite  able  to  appreciate — the  man 
-was  not  a  humorist.  In  fact,  men  headed  for  the 
noose,  the  block,  or  destined  for  immortality  by  the 
assassin's  dagger,  very  seldom  are  jokers — John  Brown 
and  his  like  do  not  jest.  Of  all  the  emancipators  of 
men,  Lincoln  alone  stands  out  as  one  who  was  per 
fectly  sane.  An  ability  to  see  the  ridiculous  side  of 
things  marks  the  man  of  perfect  balance. 
The  martyr  type,  whose  blood  is  not  only  the  seed  of 
the  church,  but  of  heresy,  is  touched  with  madness. 
To  get  the  thing  done,  Nature  sacrifices  the  man. 
Q[  Arriving  in  Edinburgh,  Marat  thought  it  necessary 
for  a  time  to  live  in  hiding,  but  finally  he  came  out 
and  was  duly  installed  as  bar-keep  at  a  tavern,  and  a 
student  in  the  medical  department  of  the  University 
of  St.  Andrews — a  rather  peculiar  combination. 
Marat's  sister  and  biographer,  Albertine,  tells  us  that 
Jean  Paul  was  never  given  to  the  use  of  stimulants, 
and  in  fact,  for  the  greater  part  of  his  career,  -was  a 
total  abstainer.  And  the  man  who  knows  somewhat 


8 JEAN    PAUL    MARAT 

of  the  eternal  paradox  of  things  can  readily  under 
stand  how  this  little  tapster,  proud  and  defiant,  had  a 
supreme  contempt  for  the  patrons  who  gulped  down 
the  stuff  that  he  handed  out  over  the  bar.  He  dealt 
in  that  for  which  he  had  no  use ;  and  the  American 
bartender  to-day  who  wears  his  kohinoor  and  draws 
the  pay  of  a  bank  cashier,  is  one  who  "never  touches 
a  drop  of  anything."  The  security  with  which  he 
holds  his  position  is  on  that  very  account. 
Marat  was  hungry  for  knowledge  and  thirsty  for 
truth,  and  in  his  daily  life  he  was  as  abstemious  as 
was  Benjamin  Franklin,  whom  he  was  to  meet,  know, 
and  reverence  shortly  afterward. 

Jean  Paul  was  studying  medicine  at  the  same  place 
where  Oliver  Goldsmith,  another  exile,  studied  some 
years  before.  Each  got  his  doctor's  degree,  just  how  we 
do  not  know.  No  one  ever  saw  Goldsmith's  diploma — 
Dr.  Johnson  once  hinted  that  it  was  an  astral  one — 
but  Marat's  is  still  with  us,  yellow  with  age,  but 
plain  and  legible  with  all  of  its  signatures  and  the 
big  seal  with  a  ribbon  that  surely  might  impress  the 
chance  sufferers  waiting  in  an  outer  room  to  see  the 
doctor,  who  is  busy  enjoying  his  siesta  on  the  other 
side  of  the  partition. 


JEAN    PAUL    MARAT 


IF  it  is  ever  your  sweet  privilege  to  clap  eyes  upon 
a  diploma  issued  by  the  ancient  and  honorable 
University  of  St.  Andrews,  Edinburgh,  you  will 
see  that  it  reads  thus : 

"  Whereas  :  Since  it  is  just  and  reasonable  that  one 
who  has  diligently  attained  a  high  degree  of  knowl 
edge  in  some  great  and  useful  science,  should  be  dis 
tinguished  from  the  ignorant- vulgar,"  etc.,  etc. 
The  intent  of  the  document,  it  will  be  observed,  is  to 
certify  that  the  holder  is  not  one  of  the  "ignorant- 
vulgar,"  and  the  inference  is  that  those  who  are  not 
possessed  of  like  certificates  probably  are. 
A  copy  of  the  diploma  issued  to  Dr.  Jean  Paul  Marat 
is  before  me,  wherein,  in  most  flattering  phrase,  is 
set  forth  the  attainments  of  the  holder,  in  the  science 
of  medicine.  And  even  before  the  ink  was  dry  upon 
that  diploma,  the  "science"  of  which  it  boasted,  had 
been  discarded  as  inept  and  puerile,  and  a  new  one 
inaugurated.  And  in  our  day,  within  the  last  twenty- 
five  years,  the  entire  science  of  healing  has  shifted 
ground  and  the  materia  medica  of  the  "Centennial" 
is  now  considered  obsolete. 

In  view  of  these  things,  how  vain  is  a  college  degree 
that  certifies,  as  the  diplomas  of  St.  Andrews  still 
certify,  that  the  holder  is  not  one  of  the  "ignorant- 
vulgar!"  Is  n't  a  man  who  prides  himself  on  not  be 
longing  to  the  "ignorant-vulgar"  apt  to  be  atrociously 
ignorant  and  outrageously  vulgar  ? 
Wisdom  is  a  point  of  view,  and  knowledge,  for  the 


io JEAN    PAUL    MARAT 

most  part,  is  a  shifting  product  depending  upon  envi 
ronment,  atmosphere  and  condition.  The  eternal 
verities  are  plain  and  simple,  known  to  babes  and 
sucklings,  but  often  unseen  by  men  of  learning,  who 
focus  on  the  difficult,  soar  high  and  dive  deep,  but 
seldom  pay  cash.  In  the  sky  of  truth  the  fixed  stars 
are  few,  and  the  shepherds  who  tend  their  flocks  by 
night,  are  quite  as  apt  to  know  them  as  are  the  pro 
fessed  and  professional  Wise  Men  of  the  East — and 
Edinburgh  jf  $f 


BUT  never  mind  our  little  digression — the  value 
of  study  lies  in  study.  The  reward  of  thinking 
is  the  ability  to  think,  and  whether  one  comes 
to  right  conclusions  or  wrong,  matters  little,  says  John 
Stuart  Mill  in  his  essay  "On  Liberty." 
Thinking  is  a  form  of  exercise,  and  growth  comes 
only  through  exercise;  that  is  to  say,  expression. 
QWe  learn  things  only  to  throw  them  away:  no  man 
ever  wrote  well  until  he  had  forgotten  every  rule  of 
rhetoric,  and  no  orator  ever  spake  straight  to  the 
hearts  of  men  until  he  had  tumbled  his  elocution  into 
the  Irish  Sea  &  *f 

To  hold  on  to  things  is  to  lose  them.  To  clutch  is  to 
act  the  part  of  the  late  Mullah  Bah,  the  Turkish 
wrestler,  who  came  to  America  and  secured  through 
his  prowess  a  pot  of  gold.  Going  back  to  his  native 
country,  the  steamer  upon  which  he  had  taken  passage 


JEAN    PAUL    MARAT 11 

collided  in  mid-ocean  with  a  sunken  derelict.  Mullah 
Bah,  hearing  the  alarm,  jumped  from  his  berth  and 
strapped  to  his  person  a  belt  containing  five  thousand 
dollars  in  gold.  He  rushed  to  the  side  of  the  sinking 
ship,  leaped  over  the  rail,  and  went  to  Davy  Jones' 
Locker  like  a  plummet,  while  all  about  frail  women 
and  weak  men  in  life  preservers  bobbed  on  the  sur 
face  and  were  soon  picked  up  by  the  boats.  The  fate 
of  Mullah  Bah  is  only  another  proof  that  athletes  die 
young,  and  that  it  is  harder  to  withstand  prosperity 
than  its  opposite. 

But  knowledge  did  not  turn  the  head  of  Marat.  His 
restless  spirit  was  reaching  out  for  expression,  and 
we  find  him  drifting  to  London  for  a  wider  field. 
England  was  then  as  now  the  refuge  of  the  exile. 
There  is  to-day  just  as  much  liberty,  and  a  little 
more  free  speech,  in  England  than  in  America.  We 
have  hanged  witches  and  burned  men  at  the  stake 
since  England  has,  and  she  emancipated  her  slaves 
long  before  we  did  ours.  Over  against  the  home- 
thrust  that  respectable  women  drink  at  public  bars 
from  John  O'Groat's  to  Land's  End,  can  be  placed  the 
damning  count  that  in  the  United  States  more  men 
are  lynched  every  year  than  Great  Britain  legally  exe 
cutes  in  double  the  time. 

A  too  ready  expression  of  the  Rousseau  philosophy 
had  made  things  a  bit  unpleasant  for  Marat  in  Edin 
burgh,  but  in  London  he  found  ready  listeners,  and 
the  coffee-houses  echoed  back  his  radical  sentiments. 


12 JEAN    PAUL    MARAT 

QThese  underground  debating  clubs  of  London  started 
more  than  one  man  off  on  the  oratorical  transverse. 
Swift,  Johnson,  Reynolds,  Goldsmith,  Garrick,  Burke — 
all  sharpened  their  wits  at  the  coffee-houses.  I  see  the 
same  idea  is  now  being  revived  in  New  York  and 
Chicago :  little  clubs  of  a  dozen  or  so  will  rent  a  room 
in  some  restaurant,  and  fitting  it  up  for  themselves, 
will  dine  daily  and  discuss  great  themes,  or  small, 
according  to  the  mental  calibre  of  the  members. 
During  the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth  century  these 
clubs  were  very  popular  in  London.  Men  who  could 
talk  or  speak  were  made  welcome,  and  if  the  new 
member  generated  caloric,  so  much  the  better — ex 
citement  was  at  a  premium. 

Marat  was  now  able  to  speak  English  with  precision, 
and  his  slight  French  accent  only  added  a  charm  to 
his  words.  He  was  fiery,  direct,  impetuous.  He  was  a 
fighter  by  disposition  and  care  was  taken  never  to 
cross  him  beyond  a  point  where  the  sparks  began  to 
fly.  The  man  was  immensely  diverting  and  his  size 
was  to  his  advantage — orators  should  be  very  big  or 
very  little — anything  but  commonplace.  The  Duke  of 
Mantua  would  have  gloried  in  Jean  Paul,  and  later 
might  have  cut  off  his  head  as  a  precautionary 
measure  rff  <r 

Among  the  visitors  at  one  of  the  coffee-house  clubs 
was  one  B.  Franklin,  big,  patient,  kind.  He  weighed 
twice  as  much  as  Marat:  and  his  years  were  sixty, 
while  Marat's  were  thirty. 


JEAN    PAUL    MARAT 13 

Franklin  listened  with  amused  smiles  at  the  little 
man,  and  the  little  man  grew  to  have  an  idolatrous 
regard  for  the  big  'un.  Franklin  carried  copies  of  a 
pamphlet  called  "  Common  Sense,"  written  by  one  T. 
Paine.  Paine  was  born  in  England,  but  was  always 
pleased  to  be  spoken  of  as  an  American,  yet  he  called 
himself  "A  Citizen  of  the  World." 
Paine's  pamphlet,  "The  Crisis,"  was  known  by  heart 
to  Marat,  and  the  success  of  Franklin  and  Paine  as 
writers  had  fired  him  to  write  as  well  as  orate. 
As  a  result,  we  have  "The  Chains  of  Slavery."  The 
work  to-day  has  no  interest  to  us  excepting  as  a  liter 
ary  curiosity.  It  is  a  composite  of  Rousseau  and  Paine, 
done  by  a  sophomore  in  a  mood  of  exaltation,  and 
might  serve  well  as  a  graduation  essay,  done  in  F 
major.  It  lacks  the  poise  of  Paine,  and  the  reserve  of 
Rousseau,  and  all  the  fine  indifference  of  Franklin  is 
noticeable  by  its  absence. 

They  say  that  Marat's  name  was  "Mara"  and  his 
ancestors  came  from  County  Down.  But  never  mind 
that — his  heart  was  right.  Of  all  the  inane  imbecilities 
and  stupid  untruths  of  history,  none  are  worse  than 
the  statements  that  Jean  Paul  Marat  was  a  dema 
gogue,  hotly  intent  on  the  main  chance. 
In  this  man's  character  there  was  nothing  subtle, 
secret,  nor  untrue.  He  was  simplicity  itself,  and  his 
undiplomatic  bluntness  bears  witness  to  his  honesty. 
Qln  London,  he  lived  as  the  Mayor  of  Boston  said 
"William  Lloyd  Garrison  lived — in  a  hole  in  the  ground. 


14 JEAN    PAUL    MARAT 

His  services  as  a  physician  were  free  to  all — if  they 
could  pay,  all  right,  if  not,  it  made  no  difference.  He 
looked  after  the  wants  of  political  refugees,  and  head, 
heart  and  pocket-book  were  at  the  disposal  of  those 
who  needed  them.  His  lodging  place  was  a  garret,  a 
cellar — anywhere,  he  was  homeless,  and  his  public 
appearances  were  only  at  the  coffee-house  clubs,  or 
the  parks  where  he  would  stand  on  a  barrel  and  speak 
to  the  crowd  on  his  one  theme  of  liberty,  fraternity 
and  equality.  His  plea  was  for  the  individual.  In  order 
to  have  a  strong  and  excellent  society,  we  must  have 
strong  and  excellent  men  and  women.  That  phrase  of 
Paine's,  "The  world  is  my  country:  to  do  good  is  my 
religion,"  he  repeated  over  and  over  again. 


IN  the  year  1779,  Marat  moved  to  Paris.  He  was 
then  thirty-six  years  old.  In  Paris  he  lived  very 
much  the  same  life  that  he  had  in  London.  He 
established  himself  as  a  physician,  and  might  have 
made  a  decided  success  had  he  put  all  of  his  eggs 
in  one  basket  and  then  watched  the  basket. 
But  he  did  n't.  Franklin  had  inspired  him  with  a  pas 
sion  for  invention :  he  rubbed  amber  with  wool,  made 
a  battery  and  applied  the  scheme  in  a  crude  way  to 
the  healing  art.  He  wrote  articles  on  electricity  and 
even  foreshadowed  the  latter  day  announcement  that 
electricity  is  life.  And  all  the  time  he  discussed  eco 
nomics,  and  gave  out  through  speech  and  written 


JEAN    PAUL    MARAT 15 

word  his  views  as  to  the  rights  of  the  people.  He  saw 
the  needs  of  the  poor — he  perceived  how  through  lack 
of  nourishment  there  developed  a  craving  for  stimu 
lants,  and  observed  how  disease  and  death  fasten 
themselves  upon  the  ill-fed  and  the  ill-taught.  To  al 
leviate  the  suffering  of  the  poor,  he  opened  a  dispen 
sary  as  he  had  done  in  London,  and  gave  free  medical 
attendance  to  all  who  applied.  At  this  dispensary,  he 
gave  lectures  on  certain  days  upon  hygiene,  at  which 
times  he  never  failed  to  introduce  his  essence  of 
Rousseau  and  Voltaire. 

Some  one  called  him  "the  people's  friend."  The  name 
stuck — he  liked  it. 

In  August,  1789,  this  "terrible  dwarf"  was  standing 
on  his  barrel  in  Paris  haranguing  crowds  with  an 
oratory  that  was  tremendous  in  its  impassioned  qual 
ity.  Men  stopped  to  laugh  and  remained  to  applaud. 
QNot  only  did  he  denounce  the  nobility,  but  he  saw 
danger  in  the  liberal  leaders,  and  among  others,  Mira- 
beau  came  in  for  scathing  scorn.  Of  all  the  insane 
paradoxes  this  one  is  the  most  paradoxical — that  men 
will  hate  those  who  are  most  like  themselves.  Family 
feuds,  and  the  wrangles  of  denominations  that,  to 
outsiders,  hold  the  same  faith,  are  common.  When 
churches  are  locked  in  America,  it  is  done  to  keep 
Christians  out.  Christians  fight  Christians  much  more 
than  they  fight  the  devil. 

Marat  had  grown  to  be  a  power  among  the  lower 
classes — he  was  their  friend,  their  physician,  their 


16 JEAN    PAUL    MARAT 

advocate.  He  feared  no  interruption  and  never  sought 
to  pacify.  At  his  belt,  within  easy  reach,  and  in  open 
sight,  he  carried  a  dagger. 

His  impassioned  eloquence  swayed  the  crowds  that 
hung  upon  his  words  to  rank  unreason. 
Marat  fell  a  victim  to  his  own  eloquence,  and  the 
madness  of  the  mob  reacted  upon  him.  Like  the 
dyer's  hand,  he  became  subdued  to  that  which  he 
worked  in.  Suspicion  and  rebellion  filled  his  soul. 
"Wealth  to  him  was  an  offense  —  he  had  not  the 
prophetic  vision  to  see  the  rise  of  capitalism  and 
all  the  splendid  industrial  evolution  which  the 
world  is  to-day  working  out.  Society  to  him  was 
all  founded  on  wrong  premises  and  he  would  up 
root  it  <f  *T 

In  bitter  words  he  denounced  the  Assembly  and  de 
clared  that  all  of  its  members,  including  Mirabeau, 
should  be  hanged  for  their  inaction  in  not  giving  the 
people  relief  from  their  oppressors. 
Mirabeau  was  very  much  like  Marat.  He,  too,  was 
working  for  the  people,  only  he  occupied  a  public 
office,  while  Marat  was  a  private  citizen.  Mirabeau 
and  his  friends  became  alarmed  at  the  influence 
Marat  was  gaining  over  the  people,  and  he  was  or 
dered  to  cease  public  speaking.  As  he  failed  to  comply, 
a  price  was  put  upon  his  head. 

Then  it  was  that  he  began  putting  out  a  daily  address 
in  the  form  of  a  tiny  pamphlet.  This  was  at  first  called 
"The  Publiciste,"  but  was  soon  changed  to  "The 


JEAN    PAUL    MARAT 17 

People's  Friend."  Q  Marat  was  now  in  hiding,  but 
still  his  words  were  making  their  impress. 
In  1791,  Mirabeau,  the  terrible,  died — died  peacefully 
in  his  bed.  Paris  went  in  universal  mourning,  and  the 
sky  of  Marat's  popularity  was  darkened. 
Marat  lived  in  hiding  until  August  of  1792,  when  he 
again  publicly  appeared  and  led  the  riots.  The  people 
hailed  him  as  their  deliverer.  The  insignificant  size  of 
the  man  made  him  conspicuous.  His  proud  defiance, 
the  haughtiness  of  his  countenance,  his  stinging  words, 
formed  a  personality  that  made  him  the  pet  of  the 
people  &  4T 

Danton,  the  Minister  of  Justice,  dared  not  kill  him, 
and  so  he  did  the  next  best  thing — he  took  him  to  his 
heart  and  made  him  his  right-hand  man.  It  was  a 
great  diplomatic  move,  and  the  people  applauded. 
Danton  was  tall,  powerful,  athletic  and  commanding, 
just  past  his  thirtieth  year.  Marat  was  approaching 
fifty,  and  his  suffering  while  in  hiding  in  the  sewers 
had  told  severely  on  his  health,  but  he  was  still  the 
fearless  agitator.  When  Marat  and  Danton  appeared 
upon  the  balcony  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  the  hearts  of 
the  people  were  with  the  little  man. 
But  behold,  another  man  had  forged  to  the  front,  and 
this  was  Robespierre.  And  so  it  was  that  Danton, 
Marat  and  Robespierre  formed  a  triumvirate,  and 
ruled  Paris  with  hands  of  iron.  Coming  in  the  name  of 
the  people,  proclaiming  peace,  they  held  their  place 
only  through  a  violence  that  argued  its  own  death. 


i8 JEAN    PAUL    MARAT 

Q Marat  was  still  full  of  the  desire  to  educate — to  make 
men  think.  Deprivation  and  disease  had  wrecked  his 
frame  until  public  speaking  was  out  of  the  question— 
the  first  requisite  of  oratory  is  health.  But  he  could 
write,  and  so  his  little  paper,  "The  People's  Friend," 
went  fluttering  forth  with  its  daily  message. 
So  scrupulous  was  Marat  in  money  matters  that  he 
would  accept  no  help  from  the  government.  He  neither 
drew  a  salary  nor  would  he  allow  any  but  private 
citizens  to  help  issue  his  paper.  He  lived  in  absolute 
poverty  with  his  beloved  wife,  Simonne  Evrard. 
They  had  met  about  1788,  and  between  them  had 
grown  up  a  very  firm  and  tender  bond.  He  was  twenty 
years  older  than  she,  but  Danton  said  of  her,  "  She 
has  the  mind  of  a  man." 

Simonne  had  some  property  and  was  descended  from 
a  family  of  note.  "When  she  became  the  wife  of  Marat, 
her  kinsmen  denounced  her,  refused  to  mention  her 
name,  but  she  was  loyal  to  the  man  she  loved. 
The  psalmist  speaks  of  something  "that  passeth  the 
love  of  woman,"  but  the  psalmist  was  wrong — noth 
ing  does  df  *T 

Simonne  Evrard  gave  her  good  name,  her  family  po 
sition,  her  money,  her  life — her  soul  into  the  keeping 
of  Jean  Paul  Marat.  That  his  love  and  gratitude  to 
her  were  great  and  profound,  there  is  abundant  proof. 
She  was  his  only  servant,  his  secretary,  his  comrade, 
his  friend,  his  wife.  Not  only  did  she  attend  him  in 
sickness,  but  in  banishment  and  disgrace  she  never 


JEAN    PAUL    MARAT 19 

faltered.  She  even  set  the  type,  and  at  times  her  arm 
pulled  the  lever  of  the  press  that  printed  the  daily 
message  *T  4f 

Let  it  stand  to  the  eternal  discredit  of  Thomas  Carlyle 
that  he  contemptuously  disposes  of  Simonne  Evrard, 
who  represents  undying  love  and  unflinching  loyalty, 
by  calling  her  a  "washerwoman."  Carlyle,  with  a 
savage  strain  of  Scotch  Calvinism  in  his  cold  blood, 
never  knew  the  sacredness  of  the  love  of  man  and 
woman — to  him  sex  was  a  mistake  on  the  part  of 
God.  Even  for  the  sainted  Mary  of  Galilee  he  has  only 
a  grim  and  patronizing  smile,  removing  his  clay  pipe 
long  enough  to  say  to  Milburn,  the  blind  Preacher, 
"Oh,  yes,  a  country  lass  elevated  by  Catholics  into  a 
wooden  image  and  worshipped  as  a  deity! " 
Carlyle  never  held  in  his  arms  a  child  of  his  own  and 
saw  the  light  of  love  reflected  in  a  baby's  eyes;  and 
nowhere  in  his  forty-odd  volumes  does  he  recognize 
the  truth  that  love,  art  and  religion  are  one.  And  this 
limitation  gives  Taine  excuse  for  saying,  "He  writes 
splendidly,  but  it  is  neither  truth  nor  poetry." 
When  Charlotte  Corday,  that  poor  deluded  rustic, 
reached  the  rooms  of  Marat,  under  a  friendly  pretence, 
and  thrust  her  murderous  dagger  to  the  sick  man's 
heart,  his  last  breath  was  a  cry  freighted  with  love, 
"A  moi,  chere  amie  !  " 

And  death-choked,  that  proud  head  drooped,  and 
Simonne,  seeing  the  terrible  deed  was  done,  blocked 
the  way  and  held  the  murderess  at  bay  until  help 


20 JEAN    PAUL    MARAT 

arrived.  Q Hardly  had  Marat's  tired  body  been  laid  to 
rest  in  the  Pantheon,  before  Charlotte  Corday's  spirit 
had  gone  across  the  Border  to  meet  his — gone  to  her 
death  by  the  guillotine  that  was  so  soon  to  embrace 
both  Danton  and  Robespierre,  the  men  who  had  in 
augurated  and  popularized  it. 

All  Paris  went  into  mourning  for  Marat— the  public 
buildings  were  draped  with  black,  and  his  portrait  dis 
played  in  the  Pantheon  with  the  great  ones  gone.  A 
pension  for  life  -was  bestowed  upon  his  widow,  and 
lavish  resolutions  of  gratitude  were  laid  at  her  feet  in 
loving  token  of  what  she  had  done  in  upholding  the 
hands  of  this  strong  man. 

But  Paris,  the  fickle,  in  two  short  years  repudiated 
the  pension,  the  portrait  of  Marat  was  removed  from 
the  Pantheon,  and  his  body  taken  by  night  to  another 
resting  place  *f  4T 

Simonne  the  widow,  and  Albertine  the  sister,  sisters 
now  in  sorrow,  uniting  in  a  mutual  love  for  the  dead, 
lived  but  in  memory  of  him. 

But  Carlyle  was  right — this  was  a  "washerwoman." 
She  spent  all  of  her  patrimony  in  aiding  her  husband 
to  publish  and  distribute  his  writings,  and  after  his 
death,  when  friends  proved  false  and  even  the  obdu 
rate  kinsmen  still  considered  her  name  pollution,  she 
took  in  washing  to  earn  money  that  she  might  defend 
the  memory  of  the  man  she  loved. 
She  was  a  washerwoman. 
I  uncover  in  her  presence,  and  stand  with  bowed  head 


JEAN    PAUL    MARAT 21 

in  admiration  of  the  woman  who  gave  her  life  for  liberty 
and  love,  and  who  chose  a  life  of  honest  toil  rather 
than  accept  charity  or  all  that  selfishness  and  soft 
luxury  had  to  offer.  She  was  a  washerwoman,  but 
she  was  more — she  was  a  Woman. 
Let  Carlyle  have  the  credit  of  using  the  word  "wash 
erwoman"  as  a  term  of  contempt,  as  though  to  do 
laundry  work  were  not  quite  as  necessary  as  to  pro 
duce  literature. 

The  sister  and  widow  wrote  his  life,  republished  very 
much  that  he  had  written,  and  lived  but  to  keep  alive 
the  name  and  fame  of  Jean  Paul  Marat,  whose  sole 
crime  seemed  to  be  that  he  was  a  sincere  and  honest 
man,  and  was,  throughout  his  life — often  unwisely — 
the  People's  Friend. 


The  portrait  with  this  number  is  from  a  drawing  made  espe 
cially  for  the  author  by  his  friend.  Otto  J.  Schneider.  The  re 
maining  five  portraits  for  this  year  will  also  be  by  Mr.  Schneider. 


SO  HERE  ENDETH  THE  LITTLE  JOURNEY  TO  THE  HOME 
OF  JEAN  PAUL  MARAT:  WRITTEN  BY  ELBERT  HUBBARD. 
THE  BORDERS,  INITIALS  AND  ORNAMENTS  DESIGNED 
BY  SAMUEL  WARNER,  PRESSWORK  BY  LOUIS  SCHELL, 
&  THE  WHOLE  DONE  INTO  A  BOOK  BY  THE  ROYCROFT- 
ERS  AT  THEIR  SHOP,  WHICH  IS  IN  EAST  AURORA,  IN 
THE  MONTH  OF  JULY,  IN  THE  YEAR  MCMIII  4  4  4  4  4 


From  the  Glenwood  Tavern,  Riverside,  California. 


ELL,  well,  well!  "We  have  traveled  about  eight 
thousand  miles  on  this  trip,  but  we  never  saw  a  hotel 
to  equal  this.  It  is  built  on  the  plan  of  the  old  Mission 
Monastery  or  hospice.  There  were  a  line  of  these 
Missions,  a  hundred  years  ago,  skirting  the  coast 
from  San  Diego  to  San  Francisco,  just  a  day's  jour 
ney  apart.  These  Missions  were  a  refuge  and  a 
home  for  the  worn  traveler — he  could  stay  as  long  as  he  wished  and 
pay  what  he  could  afford,  and  when  he  went  away  he  took  with 
him  the  blessing  of  these  men  of  God. 

And  if  they  served  mankind  and  made  the  world  better,  were  they 
not  truly  Men  of  God  ?  I  think  so,  and  any  man  who  does  the  same 
now,  is  too. 

This  hotel  is  built  and  furnished  after  the  general  style  of  the  Mis 
sion.  Its  mission  is  to  serve  mankind  and  benefit  humanity.  And 
surely  if  one  of  those  good  old  monks  could  drop  in  here  he  would 
think  he  was  in  Paradise.  The  place  is  really  most  luxurious,  yet  the 
luxury  is  so  subdued  and  unobtrusive  that  you  do  not  notice  it — it 
ministers  to  your  every  want. 

When  we  were  shown  to  these  rooms  there  was  that  great  half- 
bushel  basket  of  roses — the  morning  dew  still  on  them — upon  the 
dresser,  and  baskets  of  fruit — oranges,  bananas,  peaches  and  plums 
— on  the  table.  A  pitcher  of  ice  water  is  at  hand,  and  in  the  funny 
little  corner  cupboard  are  sugar  and  lemons  galore.  And  if  we  run  short 
of  lemons,  why,  we  can  just  lean  out  of  the  casement  and  pick  a  few 
from  that  tree  where  a  mocking  bird  warbles  us  welcome.  No  servants 
seem  to  be  in  sight — they  move  with  soft- slippered  feet — and  every 
where  we  find  this  same  quiet  courtesy  and  good-cheer  and  loving 
attention.  What  is  beautiful  is  right.  One  man's  spirit  seems  to  run 
thru  the  place — that  man  is  Frank  M.  Miller,  Royal  Roycrofter,  fit 
successor  to  the  Men  of  God  who  looked  after  the  Mission  that  once 
stood  on  this  same  spot.  Only  Frank  has  Mrs.  Frank  to  help  him ! 
And  is  n't  every  man  who  does  things  in  a  masterly  way  backed  up 
by  a  good  woman  ?  Yes,  and  that  is  why  Frank  surpasses  any  mortal 
monk  who  ever  wore  a  cowl  and  chimed  matin  bells.  Well,  well,  it  is 
good  to  be  here.  What  a  beautiful  world  it  is  ! 


ROYCROFT 


Here  is  shown  a  roomy,  comfortable  settee,  built  as  good  as 
the  Roycroft  artisans  can  make  it.  Fashioned  in  oak  it  is  five 
feet  long,  constructed  in  the  old-time  way  and  held  together 
with  pin  and  slot.  Finished  in  either  Flemish  or  weathered 
oak,  as  desired,  the  price  is  $30. 

All  Roycroft  Furniture  is  made  very  solid  and  plain ;  it  will 
last  longer  than  we  do  and  then  be  as  good  as  new, — nor  will 
it  be  out  of  style.  If  you  are  interested,  send  for  our  catalog. 


The  Roy  crofters 


EAST  AURORA 
NEW  YORK 


curfew  tolls  the  knell 
of  parting  day; 
The  lowing  herd  winds 

slowly  o'er  the  lea; 
The  plowman  homeward 
plods  his  weary  way, 
And  leaves  the  world  to 
darkness  and  to  me. 

Now  fades  the  glimmering 
landscape  on  the  sight, 
And  all  the  air  a  solemn 

stillness  holds, 
Save  where  the  beetle  wheels 

his  droning  flight, 
And  drowsy  tinklings  lull 
the  distant  folds: 


This  is  to  announce  the  Roy  croft  Edition  of 

G  RAY'S    ELEGY 

WRITTEN  IN  A  COUNTRY  CHURCHYARD 

flPPOSIT'E  this  is  a  page  from  the  Roycroft 
Edition  of  Gray*1*  Elegy.  There  may  have  been 
better,  more  unique,  and  more  artistic  books  than 
this  printed  in  America,  but  we  do  not  just  re 
member  what  they  are.  The  sample  page  shown 
does  not  reveal  the  beauty  of  the  book,  for  of 
course  it  is  not  hand-illumined,  and  the  paper  is 
not  equal  to  that  used  in  the  book.  It  just  kind 
of  gives  you  a  chance  to  let  your  inward  eye  be 
hold  the  wondrous  beauty  of  a  book,  which  might 
have  been  made  in  heaven,  to  use  the  language 
of  Charles  Lamb. 

The  volume  contains  twelve  different  special 
border  designs,  all  hand-illumined.  Bound  in 
limp  chamois,  silk  lined.  Very  suitable  for  a  wed 
ding  or  anniversary  present. 
Price  of  the  book  is  Three  Dollars,  sent  to  the 
Faithful  on  suspicion. 

THE  ROTCROFTERS 

EAST    AURORA,   NEW    YORK 


List  of  Books'^ 

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Below  is  a  list  of  books,  some  of  which  have  al 
most  disappeared  from  mortal  view.  The  volumes 
are  all  bound  roycroftie,  and  are  offered  to  the  Dis 
cerning  at  the  prices  quoted.  The  Roycrofters  are 
always  glad  to  send  their  wares  for  inspection. 
Therefore,  no  matter  where  you  reside,  drop  us  a 
postal  saying  what  books  you  would  like  to  see, 
and  they  will  go  forward  at  once. 


Aucassin  and  Nicolete,  j 

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Little  Journeys,  accord 

Philistine,  Vols.  XI  to 

ing  to  binding,  $2,  $3  & 

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The  Roycrofters 


r 


TO  THE  HOMES  OF  EMINENT  ORATORS 


Vol.  XIII.  AUGUST,  1903.  No.  2 


By  ELBERT  HUBBARD 


Single  Copies,  25  cents  By  the  Year,  $3.00 


LITTLE  JOURNEYS 

TO     THE^HOMES     OF 

EMINENT    ORATORS 

By  ELBERT  HUBBARD 

SUBJECTS     AS     FOLLOWS: 

1  Pericles  7  Marat 

2  Mark  Antony  8  Robert  Ingersoll 

3  Savonarola  9  Patrick  Henry 

4  Martin  Luther  10  Thomas  Starr  King 

5  Edmund  Burke  n  Henry  Ward  Beecher 

6  William  Pitt  12  Wendell  Phillips 

One  booklet  a  month  will  be  issued  as  usual)  begin 
ning  on  January  rst. 

The  LITTLE  JOURNEYS  for  1903  will  be  strictly 
de  luxe  in  form  and  workmanship.  The  type  will  be  a 
new  font  of  antique  blackface ;  the  initials  designed 
especially  for  this  work;  a  frontispiece  portrait  from 
*the  original  drawing  made  at  our  Shop.  The  booklets 
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The  price — 25  cents  each,  or. $3.00  for  the  year. 

Address  THE   ROYCROFTERS  at  their 
Shop,   which  is  at  East  Aurora,   New  York 

Entered  at  the  postoffice  at  East  Aurora,  New  York,  for  transmission 
as  second-class  mail  matter.   Copyright,   1902,  by  Elbert  Hubbard 


Little 
pounneys 

(To  the  Homes  ot 

EMINENT 
ORATORS 


Written  by  Elbent 
Hubband  &  done 
into  a  Book  by  the 
Roycif  of  tens  at  the 
Shop,  ipbicb  is  in 
East  Jtui*ot*a,  Heio 
Yonk,  ft.  D.  1903 


T  OVE  is  the  only  bow  on  life's  dark  cloud.  It  is  the  morning  and 
^f  the  evening  star.  It  shines  upon  the  babe,  and  sheds  its  radiance 
on  the  quiet  tomb.  It  is  the  Mother  of  Art,  inspirer  of  poet,  patriot 
and  philosopher.  It  is  the  air  and  light  to  tired  souls — builder  of  every 
home,  kindler  of  every  fire  on  every  hearth.  It  was  the  first  to  dream 
of  immortality.  It  fills  the  world  with  melody — for  music  is  the  voice 
of  love.  Love  is  the  magician,  the  enchanter  that  changes  worthless 
things  to  joy,  and  makes  right  royal  kings  and  queens  of  common 
clay.  It  is  the  perfume  of  that  wondrous  flower,  the  heart,  and  with 
out  that  sacred  passion,  that  divine  swoon,  we  are  less  than  beasts ; 
but  with  it,  earth  is  heaven  and  we  are  gods. 


Robert  Ingersoll 


ROBERT     INGERSOLL      '  23 

|E  was  three  years  old,  was  Robert  Inger- 
soll.  There  was  a  baby  boy  one  year 
old,  Ebon  by  name,  then  there  was 
John,  five  years,  and  two  elder  sisters. 
Q  Little  Robert  wore  a  red  linsey- 
woolsey  dress,  and  was  a  restless,  active 
youngster  with  a  big  head,  a  round  face 
and  a  pug  nose.  No  one  ever  asked, 
"  What  is  it  ?  "—there  was  "  boy  "  writ 
ten  large  in  every  baby  action,  and  ev 
ery  feature  from  chubby  bare  feet  to  the 
two  crowns  of  his  close-cropped  tow 
head. 

It  was  a  morning  in  January,  and  the 
snow  lay  smooth  and  white  over  all 
those  York  State  hills.  The  winter  sun 
sent  long  gleams  of  light  through  the 
frost  covered  panes  upon  which  the 
children  were  trying  to  draw  pictures. 
Visitors  began  to  arrive — visitors  in  stiff 
Sunday  clothes,  altho  it  was  n't  Sunday. 
There  were  aunts,  and  uncles,  and  cous 
ins,  and  then  just  neighbors.  They  filled 
the  little  house  full.  Some  of  the  men 
went  out  and  split  wood  and  brought  in 
big  armfuls  and  piled  it  in  the  corner. 
They  moved  on  tiptoe  and  talked  in 
whispers.  And  now  and  then  they  would 
walk  softly  into  the  little  parlor  by  twos 


24  ROBERT     INGERSOLL 

and  threes  and  close  the  door  after  them.  Q  This  par 
lor  was  always  a  forbidden  place  to  the  children — on 
Sunday  afternoons  only  were  they  allowed  to  go  in 
there,  or  on  prayer  meeting  night. 

In  this  parlor  were  six  hair-cloth  chairs  and  a  sofa  to 
match.  In  the  center  was  a  little  marble-top  table,  and 
on  it  were  two  red  books  and  a  blue  one.  On  the  man 
tel  was  a  plaster-of-Paris  cat  at  one  end  and  a  bunch 
of  crystallized  flowers  at  the  other.  There  was  a 
"what-not"  in  the  corner  covered  with  little  shells 
and  filled  with  strange  and  wonderful  things.  There 
was  a  "  store  "  carpet,  bright  red.  It  was  a  very  beau 
tiful  room,  and  to  look  into  it  was  a  great  privilege. 
Q  Little  Robert  had  tried  several  times  to  enter  the 
parlor  this  cold  winter  morning,  but  each  time  he  had 
been  thrust  back.  Finally  he  clung  to  the  leg  of  a  tall 
man,  and  was  safely  inside.  It  was  very  cold — one  of 
the  windows  was  open !  He  looked  about  with  won 
dering  baby  eyes  to  see  what  the  people  wanted  to  go 
in  there  for ! 

On  two  of  the  hair-cloth  chairs  rested  a  coffin.  The 
baby  hands  clutched  the  side — he  drew  himself  up  on 
tiptoe  and  looked  down  at  the  still,  white  face — the 
face  of  his  mother.  Her  hands  were  crossed  just  so, 
and  in  her  fingers  was  a  spray  of  flowers — he  recog 
nized  them  as  the  flowers  she  had  always  worn  on  her 
Sunday  bonnet — a  rusty  black  bonnet — not  real  flow 
ers,  just  "  made  "  flowers. 
But  why  was  she  so  quiet  ?  He  had  never  seen  her 


ROBERT     INGERSOLL 25 

hands   that   way  before — those    hands    were    always 

busy:  knitting,  sewing,  cooking,  weaving,  scrubbing, 

washing ! 

"Mamma!  Mamma!"  called  the  boy. 

"Hush,  little  boy,  hush!  Your  Mamma  is  dead,"  said 

the  tall  man,  and  he  lifted  the  boy  in  his  arms  and 

carried  him  from  the  room. 

Out  in  the  kitchen,  in  a  crib  in  the  corner,  lay  the 

"  Other  Baby,"  and  thither  little  Robert  made  his  way. 

He  patted  the  sleeping  baby  brother,  and  called  aloud 

in  lisping  words,  "Wake  up,  Baby,  your  Mamma  is 

dead!" 

And  the  baby  in  the  crib  knew  quite  as  much  about  it 

as  the  toddler  in  the  linsey-woolsey  dress,  and  the 

toddler  knew  as  much  about  death  as  we  do  to-day. 

This  wee  youngster  kept  thinking  how  good  it  was 

that  Mamma  could  have  such  a  nice  rest — the  first 

rest  she  had  ever  known — and  just  lie  there  in   the 

beautiful  room  and  hold  her  flowers ! 


Fifty  years  passes.  These  children,  grown  to  man 
hood,  are  again  together.  One,  his  work  done,  is  at 
rest.  Standing  by  his  bier,  the  other  voices  these 
deathless  words: 

"Life  is  a  narrow  vale  between  the  cold  and  barren 
peaks  of  two  eternities.  "We  strive  in  vain  to  look  be 
yond  the  heights.  "We  call  aloud,  and  the  only  answer 
is  the  echo  of  our  wailing  cry.  From  the  voiceless  lips 
of  the  unreplying  dead  there  comes  no  word ;  but  in 


f6 ROBERT     INGERSOLL 

the  night  of  death,  hope  sees  a  star  and  listening  love 
can  hear  the  rustle  of  a  wing. 

"  He  who  sleeps  here,  when  dying,  mistaking  the  ap 
proach  of  death  for  the  return  of  health,  whispered 
with  his  latest  breath,  '  I  am  better  now.'  Let  us  be 
lieve,  in  spite  of  doubts  and  dogmas,  of  fears  and  tears, 
that  these  dear  words  are  true  of  all  the  countless 
dead." 


THE  mother  of  Ingersoll  was  a  Livingston — a 
Livingston  of  right  royal  lineage,  tracing  to 
that  famous  family  of  Revolutionary  fame.  To 
a  great  degree  she  gave  up  family  and  social  position 
to  become  the  wife  of  Reverend  John  Ingersoll  of  Ver 
mont,  a  theolog  from  the  Academy  at  Bennington. 
He  was  young  and  full  of  zeal — he  was  called  "  a  pow 
erful  preacher."  That  he  was  a  man  of  much  strength 
of  intellect,  there  is  ample  proof.  He  did  his  duty,  said 
his  say,  called  sinners  to  repentance  and  told  what 
would  be  their  fate  if  they  did  not  accept  salvation. 
His  desire  was  to  do  good,  and  therefore  he  warned 
men  against  the  wrath  to  come.  He  was  an  educated 
man,  and  all  of  his  beliefs  and  most  of  his  ideas  were 
gathered  and  gleaned  from  his  college  professors  and 
Jonathan  Edwards. 

He  loved  his  beautiful  wife  and  she  loved  him.  She 
loved  him  just  as  all  good  women  love,  with  a  com 
plete  abandon — with  heart,  mind  and  strength.  He  at 


ROBERT     INGERSOLL 27 

first  had  periods  of  such  abandon,  too,  but  his  con 
science  soon  made  him  recoil  from  an  affection  of 
which  God  might  be  jealous.  He  believed  that  a  man 
should  forsake  father,  mother,  wife  and  child  in  order 
to  follow  duty — and  duty  to  him  was  the  thing  we 
did  n't  want  to  do.  That  which  was  pleasant  was  not 
wholly  good.  And  so  he  strove  to  thrust  from  him  all 
earthly  affections,  and  to  love  God  alone.  Not  only 
this,  but  he  strove  to  make  others  love  God.  He 
warned  his  family  against  the  pride  and  pomp  of  the 
world,  and  the  family  income  being  something  under 
four  hundred  dollars,  they  observed  his  edict. 
Life  was  a  warfare — the  devil  constantly  lay  in  wait— 
we  must  resist.  This  man  hated  evil — he  hated  evil 
more  than  he  loved  the  good.  His  wife  loved  the  good 
more  than  she  hated  evil,  and  he  chided  her — in  love. 
She  sought  to  explain  her  position.  He  was  amazed  at 
her  temerity — what  right  had  a  woman  to  think — what 
right  had  any  one  to  think ! 
He  prayed  for  her. 

And  soon  she  grew  to  keep  her  thoughts  to  herself. 
Sometimes  she  would  write  them  out,  and  then  destroy 
them  before  any  eyes  but  her  own  could  read.  Once 
she  went  to  a  neighbor's  and  saw  Paine's  "Age  of 
Reason."  She  peeped  into  its  pages  by  stealth,  and 
then  put  it  quickly  away.  The  next  day  she  went  back 
and  read  some  more,  and  among  other  things  she  read 
was  this,  "To  live  a  life  of  love  and  usefulness — to 
benefit  others — must  bring  its  due  reward,  regardless 


28 ROBERT     INGERSOLL 

of  belief."  QShe  thought  about  it  more  and  more  and 
wondered  really  if  God  could  and  would  damn  a  per 
son  who  just  went  ahead  and  did  the  best  he  could. 
She  wanted  to  ask  her  husband  about  it — to  talk  it 
over  with  him  in  the  evening — but  she  dare  not.  She 
knew  too  well  what  his  answer  would  be — for  her  even 
to  think  such  thoughts  was  a  sin.  And  so  she  just  de 
cided  she  would  keep  her  thoughts  to  herself,  and  be 
a  dutiful  wife,  and  help  her  husband  in  his  pastoral 
work  as  a  minister's  wife  should. 

But  her  proud  spirit  began  to  droop,  she  ceased  to 
sing  at  her  work,  her  face  grew  wan,  yellow  and  sad. 
Yet  still  she  worked — there  were  no  servants  to  dis 
tress  her — and  when  her  own  work  was  done  she 
went  out  among  the  neighbors  and  helped  them — she 
cared  for  the  sick,  the  infirm,  she  dressed  the  new 
born  babe,  and  closed  the  eyes  of  the  dying. 
That  this  woman  had  a  thirst  for  liberty,  and  the 
larger  life,  is  shown  in  that  she  herself  prepared  and 
presented  a  memorial  to  the  President  of  the  United 
States  praying  that  slavery  be  abolished.  So  far  as  I 
know,  this  was  the  first  petition  ever  prepared  in 
America  on  the  subject  by  a  woman. 
This  minister's  family  rarely  remained  over  two  years 
in  a  place.  At  first  they  were  received  with  loving 
arms,  and  there  were  donation  parties  where  cider 
was  spilled  on  the  floors,  doughnuts  ground  into  the 
carpets,  and  several  hair-cloth  chairs  hopelessly 
wrecked.  But  the  larder  was  filled  and  there  was 


ROBERT     INGERSOLL 29 

much  good  cheer.  Q I  believe  I  said  that  the  Rev.  John 
Ingersoll  was  a  powerful  preacher — he  was  so  power 
ful  he  quickly  made  enemies.  He  told  men  of  their 
weaknesses  in  phrase  so  pointed  that  necks  would  be 
craned  to  see  how  certain  delinquents  took  their  medi 
cine.  Then  some  would  get  up  and  tramp  out  during 
the  sermon  in  high  dudgeon.  These  disaffected  ones 
would  influence  others — contributions  grew  less,  do 
nations  ceased,  and  just  as  a  matter  of  bread  and  but 
ter  a  new  "  call"  would  be  angled  for,  and  the  parson's 
family  would  pack  up — helped  by  the  faction  that  loved 
them,  and  the  one  that  did  n't.  Good-byes  were  said, 
blessings  given — or  the  reverse — and  the  jokers  would 
say,  "A  change  of  pastors  makes  fat  calves." 
At  one  time  the  Rev.  John  Ingersoll  tried  to  start  an 
independent  church  in  New  York  City.  For  a  year  he 
preached  every  Sunday  at  the  old  Lyceum  Theatre, 
and  here  it  was  on  the  stage  of  the  theatre,  in  1834, 
that  Robert  G.  Ingersoll  was  baptized. 
But  the  New  York  venture  failed — starved  out,  was 
the  verdict,  and  a  country  parish  extending  a  call,  it 
was  gladly  accepted. 

Such  a  life,  to  such  a  woman,  was  particularly  wear 
ing.  But  Mrs.  Ingersoll  kept  right  at  her  work,  always 
doing  for  others,  until  there  came  a  day  when  kind 
neighbors  came  in  and  cared  for  her,  looked  after  her 
household,  attending  this  stricken  mother — tired  out 
and  old  at  thirty-one,  unaware  that  she  had  blessed 
the  world  by  giving  to  it  a  man-child  who  was  to  make 


so ROBERT    INGERSOLL 

an  epoch.  QThe  watchers  one  night  straightened  the 
stiffening  limbs,  clothed  the  body  in  the  gown  that  had 
been  her  wedding  dress,  and  folded  the  calloused  fin 
gers  over  the  spray  of  flowers.  Q  "  Hush,  little  boy — 
your  Mamma  is  dead !  "  said  the  tall  man,  as  he  lifted 
the  child  and  carried  him  from  the  room. 


FROM  the  sleepy  little  village  of  Dresden,  Yates 
County,  New  York,  seven  miles  from  Penn  Yan, 
where  Robert  Ingersoll  was  born,  to  his  niche 
in  the  Temple  of  Fame,  was  a  zigzag  journey.  But 
that  is  Nature's  plan  —  we  make  head  by  tacking.  And 
as  the  years  go  by,  more  and  more,  we  see  the  line  of 
Ingersoll'slife  stretching  itself  straight.  Every  change 
to  him  meant  progress.  Success  is  a  question  of  temper 
ament  —  it  is  all  a  matter  of  the  red  corpuscle.  Ingersoll 
was  a  success  —  happy,  exuberant,  joying  in  life,  rev 
eling  in  existence,  he  marched  to  the  front  in  every 


As  a  boy  he  was  so  full  of  life  that  he  very  often  did  the 
wrong  thing.  And  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  wherever 
he  went  he  helped  hold  good  the  precedents  that 
preachers'  boys  are  not  especially  angelic.  For  in 
stance,  we  have  it  on  good  authority  that  Bob,  aged 
fourteen,  once  climbed  into  the  belfry  of  a  church  and 
removed  the  clapper,  so  that  the  sexton  thought  the 
bell  was  bewitched.  At  another  time  he  placed  a 
washtub  over  the  top  of  a  chimney  where  a  prayer 


ROBERT     INGERSQLL 31 

meeting  was  in  progress,  and  the  smoke  broke  up  the 
meeting  and  gave  the  good  people  a  foretaste  of  the 
place  they  believed  in.  In  these  stories,  told  to  prove 
his  depravity,  Bob  was  always  climbing  somewhere — 
belfries,  steeples,  housetops,  trees,  verandas,  barn- 
roofs,  bridges.  But  I  have  noticed  that  youngsters 
given  to  the  climbing  habit  usually  do  something  when 
they  grow  up. 

For  these  climbing  pranks  Robert  and  Ebon  were 
duly  reproved  with  a  stout  strap  that  hung  behind  the 
kitchen  door.  'Whether  the  parsonage  was  in  New 
York,  Pennsylvania,  Ohio,  or  Illinois — and  it  dodged  all 
over  these  states — the  strap  always  traveled,  too.  It 
never  got  lost.  It  need  not  be  said  that  the  Rev. 
John  Ingersoll  was  cruel  or  abusive,  not  at  all, — he 
just  believed  with  Solomon  that  to  spare  the  rod  was 
to  spoil  the  child.  He  loved  his  children,  and  if  a  boy 
could  be  saved  by  so  simple  a  means  as  "strap  oil," 
he  was  not  the  man  to  shirk  his  duty.  He  was  neither 
better  nor  worse  than  the  average  preacher  of  his  day. 
No  doubt,  too,  the  poverty  and  constant  misunder 
standings  with  congregations  led  to  much  irritability — 
it  is  hard  to  be  amiable  on  half  rations. 
When  a  step-mother  finally  appeared  upon  the  scene, 
there  was  more  trouble  for  the  children.  She  was  a 
worthy  woman  and  meant  to  be  kind,  but  her  heart 
was  n't  big  enough  to  love  boys  who  carried  live  mice 
in  their  pockets  and  turned  turtles  loose  in  the  pantry. 
QSo  we  find  Bob  and  his  brother  bundled  off  to  his 


32 ROBERT     INGERSOLL 

Grandfather  Livingston's  in  St.  Lawrence  County, 
New  York.  Here  Bob  got  his  first  real  educational 
advantages.  The  old  man  seems  to  have  been  a  sort 
of  "Foxy  Grandpa":  he  played,  romped,  read  and 
studied  with  the  boys  and  possibly  neutralized  some 
of  the  discipline  they  had  received. 
Of  his  childhood  days  Robert  Ingersoll  very  rarely 
spoke.  There  was  too  much  bitterness  and  disappoint 
ment  in  it  all,  but  it  is  curious  to  note  that  when  he 
did  speak  of  his  boyhood,  it  was  always  something 
that  happened  at  "  Grandfather  Livingston's."  Finally 
the  old  Grandpa  got  to  thinking  so  much  of  the  boys 
that  he  wanted  to  legally  adopt  them,  and  then  we 
find  their  father  taking  alarm  and  bringing  them  back 
to  the  parsonage,  which  was  then  at  Elyria,  Ohio. 
The  boys  worked  at  odd  jobs,  on  farms  in  summer, 
clerking  in  country  stores,  driving  stage — and  be  it  said 
to  the  credit  of  their  father,  he  allowed  them  to  keep 
the  money  they  made.  Education  comes  through  doing 
things,  making  things,  going  without  things,  taking 
care  of  yourself,  talking  about  things,  and  when  Rob 
ert  was  seventeen  he  had  education  enough  to  teach  a 
"Deestrick  School"  in  Illinois. 

To  teach  is  a  good  way  to  get  an  education.  If  you 
want  to  know  all  about  a  subject,  write  a  book  on  it, 
a  wise  man  has  said.  If  you  wish  to  know  all  about 
things,  start  in  and  teach  them  to  others. 
Bob  was  eighteen — big  and  strong,  with  a  good  nature 
and  an  enthusiasm  that  had  no  limit.  There  were  spell- 


ROBERT     INGERSOLL 33 

ing-bees  in  his  school,  and  a  debating  society,  that  had 
impromptu  rehearsals  every  night  at  the  grocery. 
Country  people  are  prone  to  "  argufying" — the  greater 
and  more  weighty  the  question  the  more  ready  are 
the  bucolic  Solons  to  engage  with  it.  And  it  is  all 
education  to  the  youth  who  listens  and  takes  part — 
who  has  the  receptive  mind. 

This  love  of  argument  and  contention  among  country 
people  finds  vent  in  lawsuits.  Pigs  break  into  a  man's 
garden  and  root  up  the  potatoes,  and  straightway  the 
owner  of  the  potatoes  "has  the  law"  on  the  owner  of 
the  pigs.  This  strife  is  urged  on  by  kind  neighbors  who 
take  sides,  and  by  the  "setters"  at  the  store,  who 
fire  the  litigants  on  to  unseemliness.  Local  attorneys 
are  engaged  and  the  trial  takes  place  at  the  railroad 
station,  or  in  the  school  house  on  Saturday.  Everybody 
has  opinions,  and  over-rules  the  "jedge"  next  day,  or 
not,  as  the  case  may  be. 

This  petty  strife  may  seem  absurd  to  us,  but  it  is  all  a 
part  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Hive,  as  Maeterlinck  would  say. 
It  is  better  than  dead  level  dumbness — better  than  the 
subjection  of  the  peasantry  of  Europe.  These  pioneers 
settle  their  own  disputes.  It  makes  them  think,  and  a 
few  at  least  are  getting  an  education.  This  is  the  cradle 
in  which  statesmen  are  rocked.  (J  And  so  it  happened 
that  no  one  was  surprised  when  in  the  year  1853,  there 
was  a  sign  tacked  up  over  a  grocery  in  Shawneetown, 
Illinois,  and  the  sign  read  thus  :  "R.G.  &E.  C.  Inger- 
soll,  Attorneys  and  Counselors  at  Law." 


34  _  ROBERT     INGERSOLL 

SHAWNEETOWN,  Illinois,  was  once  the  pride 
and  pet  of  Egypt.  It  was  larger  than  Chicago, 
and  doubtless  it  would  have  become  the  capitol 
of  the  state  had  it  been  called  Shawnee  City.  But  the 
name  was  against   it,    and   dry   rot   set   in.   And   so 
to-day  Shawneetown  has  the  same  number  of  inhabit 
ants  that  it  had  in   1855,  and  in  Shawneetown  are 
various  citizens  who  boast  that  the  place  has  held  its 


Robert  Ingersoll  had  won  a  case  for  a  certain  steam 
boat  captain,  and  in  gratitude  the  counsel  had  been 
invited  by  his  client  to  go  on  an  excursion  to  Peoria, 
the  head  of  navigation  on  the  Illinois  River.  The  lawyer 
took  the  trip,  and  duly  reached  Peoria  after  many 
hairbreadth  'scapes  on  the  imminently  deadly  sand-bar. 
But  a  week  must  be  spent  at  Peoria  while  the  boat  was 
reloading  for  her  return  trip. 

There  was  a  railroad  war  on  in  Peoria.  The  town  had 
one  railroad,  which  some  citizens  said  was  enough  for 
any  place;  others  wanted  the  new  railroad. 
Whether  the  new  company  should  be  granted  certain 
terminal  facilities  —  that  was  the  question.  The  route 
was  surveyed,  but  the  company  was  forbidden  to  lay 
its  tracks  until  the  people  said  "Aye." 
So  there  the  matter  rested  when  Robert  Ingersoll  was 
waiting  for  the  stern-wheeler  to  reload.  The  captain 
of  the  craft  had  meanwhile  circulated  reports  about 
the  eloquence  and  legal  ability  of  his  star  passenger. 
These  reports  coming  to  the  ears  of  the  manager  of 


ROBERT     INGERSOLL 35 

the  new  railroad,  he  sought  out  the  visiting  lawyer 
and  advised  with  him. 

Railroad  Law  is  a  new  thing,  not  quite  so  new  as  the 
Law  of  the  Bicycle,  or  the  Statutes  concerning  Auto- 
mobiling,  but  older  still  than  the  Legal  Precedents  of 
the  Aeromotor.  Railroad  Law  is  an  evolution,  and  the 
Railroad  Lawyer  is  a  by-product:  what  Mr.  Mantinelli 
would  call  a  demnition  product. 

It  was  a  railroad  that  gave  Robert  Ingersoll  his  first 
fee  in  Peoria.  The  man  was  only  twenty-three,  but 
semi-pioneer  life  makes  men  early,  and  Robert  Inger 
soll  stood  first  in  war  and  first  in  peace  among  the 
legal  lights  of  Shawneetown.  His  size  made  amends 
for  his  cherubic  face,  and  the  insignificant  nose  was 
more  than  balanced  by  the  forceful  jaw.  The  young 
man  was  a  veritable  Greek  in  form,  and  his  bubbling 
wit  and  ready  speech  on  any  theme  made  him  a  draw 
ing  card  at  the  political  barbecue. 

"  Bob  "  at  this  time  did  n't  know  much  about  railroads 
— there  was  no  railroad  in  Shawneetown — but  he  was 
an  expert  on  barbecues.  A  barbecue  is  a  gathering 
where  a  whole  ox  is  roasted  and  where  there  is  much 
hard  cider  and  effervescent  eloquence.  Bob  would 
speak  to  the  people  about  the  advantages  of  the  new 
railroad ;  and  the  opposition  could  answer  if  they 
wished.  Pioneers  are  always  ready  for  a  picnic — they 
delight  in  speeches — they  dote  on  argument  and 
wordy  warfare.  The  barbecue  was  to  be  across  the 
river  on  Saturday  afternoon. 


36 ROBERT     INGERSOLL 

The  whole  city  quit  business  to  go  to  the  barbecue 
and  hear  the  speeches. 

Bob  made  the  first  address.  He  spoke  for  two  hours 
about  everything  and  anything — he  told  stories,  and 
dealt  in  love,  life,  death,  politics  and  farming — all  but 
railroading.  The  crowd  was  delighted— cheers  filled 
the  air  <r  & 

When  the  opposition  got  up  to  speak  and  brought  for 
ward  its  profound  reasons  and  heavy  logic,  most 
everybody  adjourned  to  the  tables  to  eat  and  drink. 
Q  Finally  there  came  rumors  that  something  was  go 
ing  on  across  the  river.  The  opposition  grew  nervous 
and  started  to  go  home,  but  in  some  mysterious  way 
the  two  ferry  boats  were  tied  up  on  the  farther  bank, 
and  were  deaf  and  blind  to  signals. 
It  was  well  after  dark  before  the  people  reached  home, 
and  when  they  got  up  the  next  morning  they  found  the 
new  railroad  had  a  full  mile  of  track  down  and  engines 
were  puffing  at  their  doors. 

Bob  made  another  speech  in  the  public  square,  and 
cautioned  everybody  to  be  law-abiding.  The  second 
railroad  had  arrived — it  was  a  good  thing — it  meant 
wealth,  prosperity  and  happiness  for  everybody.  And 
even  if  it  did  n't,  it  was  here  and  could  not  be  removed 
excepting  by  legal  means.  And  we  must  all  be  law- 
abiding  citizens — let  the  matter  be  determined  by  the 
courts.  Then  there  were  a  few  funny  stories,  and 
cheers  were  given  for  the  speaker. 


ROBERT     INGERSOLL, 37 

On  the  next  trip  of  the  little  stenuwheeler  the  young 
lawyer  and  his  brother  arrived.  They  had  n't  much 
baggage,  but  they  carried  a  tin  sign  that  they  proceeded 
to  tack  up  over  a  store  on  Adams  Street.  It  read  thus: 
"  R.  G.  &  E.  C.  Ingersoll,  Attorneys  and  Counselors  at 
Law."  And  there  the  sign  was  to  remain  for  twenty- 
five  years. 


AT  Peoria,  the  Ingersoll  Brothers  did  not  have 
to  wait  long  for  clients.  Ebon  was  the  coun 
selor,  Robert  the  pleader,  and  some  still  have 
it  that  Ebon  was  the  stronger,  just  as  we  hear  that 
Ezekiel  Webster  was  a  more  capable  man  than  Dan 
iel — which  was  probably  the  fact. 

The  Ingersolls  had  not  been  long  at  Peoria  before 
Robert  had  a  case  at  Groveland,  a  town  only  a  few 
miles  away,  and  a  place  which,  like  Shawneetown, 
has  held  its  own. 

The  issue  was  the  same  old  classic — hogs  had  rooted 
up  the  man's  garden,  and  then  the  hogs  had  been  im 
pounded.  This  time  there  was  tragedy,  for  before  the 
hogs  were  released  the  owner  was  killed. 
The  people  for  miles  had  come  to  town  to  hear  the 
eloquent  young  lawyer  from  Peoria.  The  taverns  were 
crowded,  and  not  having  engaged  a  room,  the  attorney 
for  the  defense  was  put  to  straits  to  find  a  place  in 
which  to  sleep.  In  this  extremity  'Squire  Parker,  the 
first  citizen  of  the  town,  invited  young  Ingersoll  to 


38 ROBERT     INGERSOLL 

his  house.  Q  Parker  was  a  character  in  that  neck  of 
the  woods — he  was  an  "infidel,"  and  a  terror  to  all 
the  clergy  'round  about.  And  strange  enough — or  not 
— his  wife  believed  exactly  as  he  did,  and  so  did  their 
daughter  Eva,  a  beautiful  girl  of  nineteen.  But  'Squire 
Parker  got  into  no  argument  with  his  guest — their  be 
lief  was  the  same.  Probably  we  would  now  call  the 
Parkers  simply  radical  Unitarians.  Their  kinsman, 
Theodore  Parker,  expressed  their  faith,  and  they  had 
no  more  use  for  a  "personal  devil"  than  he  had.  The 
courage  of  the  young  woman  in  stating  her  religious 
views  had  almost  made  her  an  outcast  in  the  village, 
and  here  she  was  saying  the  same  things  in  Groveland 
that  Robert  was  saying  in  Peoria.  She  was  the  first 
woman  he  ever  knew  who  had  ideas. 
It  was  one  o'clock  before  he  went  to  bed  that  night— 
his  head  was  in  a  whirl.  It  was  a  wonder  he  did  n't 
lose  his  case  the  next  day,  but  he  did  n't. 
He  cleared  his  client  and  won  a  bride. 
In  a  few  months  Robert  Ingersoll  and  Eva  Parker 
were  married. 

Never  were  man  and  woman  more  perfectly  mated 
than  this  couple.  And  how  much  the  world  owes  to 
her  sustaining  love  and  unfaltering  faith,  we  cannot 
compute ;  but  my  opinion  is  that  if  it  had  not  been  for 
Eva  Parker — twice  a  daughter  of  the  Revolution, 
whose  ancestors  fought  side  by  side  with  the  Living 
stons — we  should  never  have  heard  of  Robert  Inger 
soll  as  the  maker  of  an  epoch.  It  is  love  that  makes 


ROBERT     INGERSOLL 39 

the  world  go  'round — and  it  is  love  that  makes  the 
orator  and  fearless  thinker,  no  less  than  poet,  painter 
and  musician. 

No  man  liveth  unto  himself  alone:  we  demand  the 
approval  and  approbation  of  another :  we  write  and 
speak  for  some  One;  and  our  thought  coming  back 
from  this  One  approved,  gives  courage  and  that  bold 
determination  which  carries  conviction  home.  Before 
the  world  believes  in  us  we  must  believe  in  ourselves, 
and  before  we  fully  believe  in  ourselves  this  some 
One  must  believe  in  us.  Eva  Parker  believed  in  Robert 
Ingersoll,  and  it  was  her  love  and  faith  that  made  him 
believe  in  himself  and  caused  him  to  fling  reasons  into 
the  face  of  hypocrisy  and  shower  with  sarcasm  and 
ridicule  the  savage  and  senseless  superstitions  that 
paraded  themselves  as  divine. 

Wendell  Phillips  believed  in  himself  because  Ann 
never  doubted  him.  Without  Ann  he  would  not  have 
had  the  courage  to  face  that  twenty  years'  course  of 
mobs.  If  it  had  ever  occurred  to  him  that  the  mob  was 
right  he  would  have  gone  down  in  darkness  and  de 
feat,  but  with  Ann  such  a  suspicion  was  not  possible. 
He  pitted  Ann's  faith  against  the  prejudice  of  centuries 
— two  with  God  are  a  majority. 

It  was  Eva's  faith  that  sustained  Robert.  In  those 
first  years  of  lecturing  she  always  accompanied  him, 
and  at  his  lectures  sat  on  the  stage  in  the  wings  and 
gloried  in  his  success.  He  did  not  need  her  to  protect 
him  from  the  mob,  but  he  needed  her  to  protect  him 


40  _  ROBERT     INGERSOLL 

from  himself.  It  is  only  perfect  love  that  casteth  out 
fear. 


THERE  is  a  little  book  called,  "Ingersoll  as  He 
Is,"  which  is  being  circulated  by  some  earnest 
advocates  of  truth. 

The  volume  is  a  vindication,  a  refutation  and  an  apol 
ogy.  It  takes  up  a  goodly  list  of  zealous  calumniators 
and  cheerful  prevaricators  and  tacks  their  pelts  on 
the  barn-door  of  obliquity. 

That  Ingersoll  won  the  distinction  of  being  more 
grossly  misrepresented  than  any  man  of  his  time, 
there  is  no  doubt.  This  was  to  his  advantage  —  he  was 
advertised  by  his  rabid  enemies  no  less  than  by  his 
loving  friends.  But  his  good  friends  who  are  putting 
out  this  vindication  should  cultivate  faith,  and  know 
that  there  is  a  God,  or  Something,  who  looks  after  the 
lies  and  the  liars  —  we  need  n't. 

A  big  man  should  never  be  cheapened  by  a  defense. 
Life  is  its  own  excuse  for  being,  and  every  life  is  its 
own  apology.  Silence  is  better  than  wordy  refutation. 
People  who  want  to  believe  the  falsehoods  told  of  this 
man,  or  any  other,  will  continue  to  believe  them  until 
the  crack  o'  doom. 

Most  accusations  contain  a  certain  basis  of  truth,  but 
they  may  be  no  less  libels  on  that  account.  One  zeal 
ous  advocate,  intent  on  loving  his  supposed  enemy, 
printed  a  thrilling  story  about  Ingersoll'  s  being  taken 


ROBERT     INGERSOLL 41 

prisoner  during  the  war,  while  taking  refuge  in  a  pig 
pen.  To  this  some  of  Bob's  friends  interposed  a  fierce 
rejoinder  declaring  that  Bob  stood  like  Falstaff  at 
Gads  Hill  and  fought  the  rogues  in  buckram  to  a 
standstill  &*  jf 

Heaven  forfend  me  from  my  friends — I  can  withstand 
mine  enemies  alone ! 

I  am  quite  ready  to  believe  that  Bob,  being  attacked 
by  an  overwhelming  force,  suddenly  bethought  him 
of  an  engagement,  and  made  a  swift  run  for  safety. 
The  impeccable  man  who  has  never  done  a  cowardly 
thing,  nor  a  mean  thing,  is  no  kinsman  of  mine !  The 
saintly  hero  who  has  not  had  his  heels  run  away  with 
his  head,  and  sought  safety  in  a  friendly  pig-pen — aye  ! 
and  filled  his  belly  with  the  husks  that  the  swine  did 
eat — has  dropped  something  out  of  his  life  that  he 
will  have  to  go  back  for  and  pick  up  in  another  incar 
nation.  We  love  men  for  their  limitations  and  weak 
nesses,  no  less  than  their  virtues.  A  fault  may  bring 
a  man  very  close  to  us.  Have  we,  too,  not  sought 
safety  in  pig-pens !  The  people  who  taunt  other 
people  with  having  taken  temporary  refuge  in  a  pig 
pen  are  usually  those  who  live  in  pig-pens  the  whole 
year  'round  &*  <f 

The  one  time  in  the  life  of  Savonarola  when  he  comes 
nearest  to  us  is  when  his  tortured  flesh  wrenched  from 
his  spirit  a  recantation.  And  who  can  forget  that  cry 
of  Calvary,  "My  God,  my  God!  Why  hast  thou  for 
saken  me!"  That  call  for  help  coming  to  us  across 


42 ROBERT     INGERSOLL 

twenty  centuries,  makes  the  man,  indeed,  our  Elder 
Brother  <r  4T 

And  let  it  here  be  stated  that  even  Bob's  bitterest  foe 
never  declared  that  the  man  was  a  coward  by  nature, 
nor  that  the  business  of  his  life  was  hiding  in  pig 
pens.  The  incident  named  was  exceptional  and  there 
fore  noteworthy;  let  us  admit  it,  at  least  not  worry 
ourselves  into  a  passion  denying  it.  Let  us  also  stipu 
late  the  truth  that  Bob  could  never  quite  overcome 
the  temptation  to  take  an  unfair  advantage  of  his  op 
ponent  in  an  argument.  He  laid  the  fools  by  the  heels 
and  suddenly,  'gainst  all  the  rules  of  either  Robertson 
or  Queensbury. 

To  go  after  the  prevaricators,  and  track  them  to  their 
holes  is  to  make  much  of  little,  and  lift  the  liars  into 
the  realm  of  equals.  This  story  of  the  pig-pen  I  never 
heard  of  until  Ingersoll's  friends  denied  it  in  a  book. 
QJust  one  instance  to  show  how  trifles  light  as  air 
are  to  the  zealous  confirmation  strong  as  holy  writ. 
In  April,  1894,  Ingersoll  lectured  at  Utica,  New  York. 
The  following  Sunday  a  local  clergyman  denounced  the 
lecturer  as  a  sensualist,  a  gourmand — one  totally  in 
different  to  decency  and  the  feelings  and  rights  of 
others.  Then  the  preacher  said,  "At  breakfast  in  this 
city  last  Thursday,  Ingersoll  ordered  everything  on 
the  bill  of  fare,  and  then  insulted  and  roundly  abused 
the  waiter-girl  because  she  did  not  bring  things  that 
were  not  in  the  hotel." 
I  happened  to  be  present  at  that  meal.  It  was  an 


ROBERT     INGERSOLL, 43 

Dearly  train  breakfast,"  and  the  bill  of  fare  for  the 
day  had  not  been  printed.  The  girl  came  in,  and 
standing  at  the  Colonel's  elbow,  in  genuine  waiter- 
girl  style,  mumbled  this:  "Ham  and  eggs,  mutton 
chops,  beefsteak,  breakfast  bacon,  codfish  balls  and 
buckwheat  cakes." 

And  Bob  solemnly  said:  "Ham  and  eggs,  mutton 
chops,  beefsteak,  breakfast  bacon,  codfish  balls  and 
buckwheat  cakes." 

In  amazement  the  girl  gasped,  "What?"  And  then 
Bob  went  over  it  backward:  "  Buckwheat  cakes,  cod 
fish  balls,  breakfast  bacon,  beefsteak,  mutton  chops, 
and  ham  and  eggs." 

This  memory  test  raised  a  laugh  that  sent  a  shout  of 
mirth  all  through  the  room,  in  which  even  the  girl 
joined  jf  & 

"Have  n't  you  anything  else,  my  dear,"  asked  the 
great  man  in  a  sort  of  disappointed  way. 
"I  think  we  have  tripe  and  pig's  feet,"  said  the  girl. 
Q"  Bring  a  bushel,"  said  Bob,  "and  say,  tell  the  cook 
I  'd  like  a  dish  of  peacock  tongues  on  the  side."  The 
infinite  good  nature  of  it  all  caused  another  laugh 
from  everybody. 

The  girl  brought  everything  ordered  excepting  the 
peacock  tongues,  and  this  order  supplied  the  lecturer 
and  his  party  of  four.  The  waitress  found  a  dollar  bill 
under  Bob's  plate,  and  the  cook  who  stood  in  the 
kitchen  door  and  waved  a  big  spoon,  and  called, 
"Good-bye,  Bob!"  got  another  dollar  for  himself. 


44 ROBERT     INGERSOLL 

Cf  Ingersoll  carried  mirth,  and  joy,  and  good  cheer,  and 
radiated  a  feeling  of  plentitude  wherever  he  went.  He 
was  a  royal  liver  and  a  royal  spender.  "  If  I  had  but  a 
dollar,"  he  used  to  say,  "I  'd  spend  it  as  though  it 
were  a  dry  leaf,  and  I  were  the  owner  of  an  un 
bounded  forest."  He  maintained  a  pension  list  of 
thirty  persons  or  more  for  a  decade,  spent  upwards 
of  forty  thousand  dollars  a  year,  and  while  the  for 
tune  he  left  for  his  wife  and  children  was  not  large, 
as  men  count  things  on  'Change,  yet  it  is  ample  for 
their  ease  and  comfort. 

His  family  always  called  him  "Robert"  with  an  al 
most  idolatrous  flavor  of  tender  love  in  the  word.  But 
to  the  world  who  hated  him  and  the  world  who  loved 
him,  he  was  just  plain  "Bob."  To  trainmen,  hack 
drivers,  and  the  great  singers,  poets  and  players,  he 
was  "Bob."  "Dignity  is  the  mask  behind  which  we 
hide  our  ignorance."  "When  half  a  world  calls  a  man 
by  a  nickname,  it  is  a  patent  to  nobility — small  men 
are  never  so  honored. 

"Good-bye,  Bob,"  called  the  white  aproned  cook  as 
he  stood  in  the  kitchen  door  and  waved  his  big  spoon. 
"  Good-bye,  Brother,  and  mind  you  get  those  peacock 
tongues  by  the  time  I  get  back,"  answered  Bob. 


ROBERT     INGERSOLL 45 

AS  to  Ingersoll's  mental  evolution  we  cannot  do 
better  than  to  let  him  tell  the  story  himself: 
QLike  the  most  of  us,  I  was  raised  among 
people  who  knew — who  were  certain.  They  did  not 
reason  or  investigate.  They  had  no  doubts.  They 
knew  they  had  the  truth.  In  their  creed  there  was  no 
guess — no  perhaps.  They  had  a  revelation  from  God. 
They  knew  the  beginning  of  things.  They  knew  that 
God  commenced  to  create  one  Monday  morning  and 
worked  until  Saturday  night,  four  thousand  and  four 
years  before  Christ.  They  knew  that  in  the  eternity — 
back  of  that  morning,  he  had  done  nothing.  They 
knew  that  it  took  him  six  days  to  make  the  earth — 
all  plants,  all  animals,  all  life,  and  all  the  globes  that 
wheel  in  space.  They  knew  exactly  what  he  did  each 
day  and  when  he  rested.  They  knew  the  origin,  the 
cause  of  evil,  of  all  crime,  of  all  disease  and  death. 
QThey  not  only  knew  the  beginning,  but  they  knew 
the  end.  They  knew  that  life  had  one  path  and  one 
road.  They  knew  that  the  path,  grass-grown  and 
narrow,  filled  with  thorns  and  nettles,  infested  with 
vipers,  wet  with  tears,  stained  by  bleeding  feet,  led  to 
heaven,  and  that  the  road,  broad  and  smooth,  bor 
dered  with  fruits  and  flowers,  filled  with  laughter  and 
song,  and  all  the  happiness  of  human  love,  led  straight 
to  hell.  They  knew  that  God  was  doing  his  best  to 
make  you  take  the  path  and  that  the  Devil  used  every 
art  to  keep  you  in  the  road. 

They  knew  that  there  was  a  perpetual  battle  waged 
between  the  great  Powers  of  good  and  evil  for  the 
possession  of  human  souls.  They  knew  that  many 
centuries  ago  God  had  left  his  throne  and  had  been 
born  a  babe  into  this  poor  world — that  he  had  suffered 
death  for  the  sake  of  man — for  the  sake  of  saving  a 


46 ROBERT     INGERSOLL 

few.  They  also  knew  that  the  human  heart  was 
utterly  depraved,  so  that  man  by  nature  was  in  love 
with  wrong  and  hated  God  with  all  his  might. 
At  the  same  time  they  knew  that  God  created  man  in 
his  own  image  and  was  perfectly  satisfied  with  his 
work.  They  also  knew  that  he  had  been  thwarted  by 
the  Devil — who  with  wiles  and  lies  had  deceived  the 
first  of  human  kind.  They  knew  that  in  consequence 
of  that,  God  cursed  the  man  and  woman ;  the  man 
with  toil,  the  woman  with  slavery  and  pain,  and  both 
with  death ;  and  that  he  cursed  the  earth  itself  with 
briars  and  thorns,  brambles  and  thistles.  All  these 
blessed  things  they  knew.  They  knew  too  all  that 
God  had  done  to  purify  and  elevate  the  race.  They 
knew  all  about  the  Flood — knew  that  God,  with  the 
exception  of  eight,  drowned  all  his  children — the  old 
and  young — the  bowed  patriarch  and  the  dimpled 
babe — the  young  man  and  the  merry  maiden — the 
loving  mother  and  the  laughing  child — because  his 
mercy  endureth  forever.  They  knew  too,  that  he 
drowned  the  beasts  and  birds — everything  that  walked 
or  crawled  or  flew — because  his  loving  kindness  is 
over  all  his  works.  They  knew  that  God,  for  the  pur 
pose  of  civilizing  his  children,  had  devoured  some 
with  earthquakes,  destroyed  some  with  storms  of 
fire,  killed  some  with  his  lightnings,  millions  with 
famine,  with  pestilence,  and  sacrificed  countless 
thousands  upon  the  fields  of  war.  They  knew  that  it 
was  necessary  to  believe  these  things  and  to  love 
God.  They  knew  that  there  could  be  no  salvation  ex 
cept  by  faith,  and  through  the  atoning  blood  of  Jesus 
Christ  <T  *T 

All  who  doubted  or  denied  would  be  lost.  To  live  a 
moral  and  honest  life — to  keep  your  contracts,  to  take 
care  of  wife  and  child — to  make  a  happy  home — to  be 


ROBERT    INGERSOLL 47 

a  good  citizen,  a  patriot,  a  just  and  thoughtful  man, 
was  simply  a  respectable  way  of  going  to  hell. 
God  did  not  reward  men  for  being  honest,  generous 
and  brave,  but  for  the  act  of  faith — without  faith,  all 
the  so-called  virtues  were  sins  and  the  men  who 
practiced  these  virtues,  without  faith,  deserved  to 
suffer  eternal  pain. 

All  of  these  comforting  and  reasonable  things  were 
taught  by  the  ministers  in  their  pulpits — by  teachers 
in  Sunday  schools  and  by  parents  at  home.  The  chil 
dren  were  victims.  They  were  assaulted  in  the  cradle 
— in  their  mother's  arms.  Then,  the  schoolmaster 
carried  on  the  war  against  their  natural  sense,  and 
all  the  books  they  read  were  filled  with  the  same  im 
possible  truths.  The  poor  children  were  helpless.  The 
atmosphere  they  breathed  was  filled  with  lies — lies 
that  mingled  with  their  blood. 

In  those  days  ministers  depended  on  revivals  to  save 
souls  and  reform  the  world. 

In  the  winter,  navigation  having  closed,  business  -was 
mostly  suspended.  There  were  no  railways  and  the 
only  means  of  communication  were  wagons  and  boats. 
Generally  the  roads  were  so  bad  that  the  wagons 
were  laid  up  with  the  boats.  There  were  no  operas, 
no  theatres,  no  amusements  except  parties  and  balls. 
The  parties  were  regarded  as  worldly  and  the  balls  as 
wicked.  For  real  and  virtuous  enjoyment  the  good 
people  depended  on  revivals. 

The  sermons  were  mostly  about  the  pains  and  agonies 
of  hell,  the  joys  and  ecstacies  of  heaven,  salvation  by 
faith,  and  the  efficacy  of  the  atonement.  The  little 
churches,  in  which  the  services  were  held,  were 
generally  small,  badly  ventilated,  and  exceedingly 
warm.  The  emotional  sermons,  the  sad  singing,  the 
hysterical  amens,  the  hope  of  heaven,  the  fear  of  hell, 


48 ROBERT     INGERSQLL 

caused  many  to  lose  the  little  sense  they  had.  They 
became  substantially  insane.  In  this  condition  they 
flocked  to  the  "mourners  bench" — asked  for  the 
prayers  of  the  faithful — had  strange  feelings,  prayed 
and  wept  and  thought  they  had  been  "born  again." 
Then  they  would  tell  their  experience— how  wicked 
they  had  been — how  evil  had  been  their  thoughts, 
their  desires,  &  how  good  they  had  suddenly  become. 
QThey  used  to  tell  the  story  of  an  old  woman  who,  in 
telling  her  experience,  said: — "Before  I  was  con 
verted,  before  I  gave  my  heart  to  God,  I  used  to  lie 
and  steal,  but  now,  thanks  to  the  grace  and  blood  of 
Jesus  Christ,  I  have  quit  'em  both,  in  a  great  meas 
ure."  #-  w 

Of  course  all  the  people  were  not  exactly  of  one  mind. 
There  were  some  scoffers,  and  now  and  then,  some 
man  had  sense  enough  to  laugh  at  the  threats  of 
priests  and  make  a  jest  of  hell.  Some  would  tell  of 
unbelievers  who  had  lived  and  died  in  peace. 
When  I  was  a  boy  I  heard  them  tell  of  an  old  farmer 
in  Vermont.  He  was  dying.  The  minister  was  at  his 
bed-side — asked  him  if  he  was  a  Christian — if  he  was 
prepared  to  die.  The  old  man  answered  that  he  had 
made  no  preparation,  that  he  was  not  a  Christian — 
that  he  had  never  done  anything  but  work.  The 
preacher  said  that  he  could  give  him  no  hope  unless 
he  had  faith  in  Christ,  and  that  if  he  had  no  faith  his 
soul  would  certainly  be  lost. 

The  old  man  was  not  frightened.  He  was  perfectly 
calm.  In  a  weak  and  broken  voice  he  said:  "Mr. 
Preacher,  I  suppose  you  noticed  my  farm.  My  wife 
and  I  came  here  more  than  fifty  years  ago.  We  were 
just  married.  It  was  a  forest  then  and  the  land  was 
covered  with  stones.  I  cut  down  the  trees,  burned  the 
logs,  picked  up  the  stones  and  laid  the  walls.  My  wife 


ROBERT     INGERSOLL 49 

spun  and  wove  and  worked  every  moment.  We  raised 
and  educated  our  children — denied  ourselves.  During 
all  these  years  my  wife  never  had  a  good  dress,  or  a 
decent  bonnet.  I  never  had  a  good  suit  of  clothes.  "We 
lived  on  the  plainest  food.  Our  hands,  our  bodies,  are 
deformed  by  toil.  We  never  had  a  vacation.  We  loved 
each  other  and  the  children.  That  is  the  only  luxury 
we  ever  had.  Now,  I  am  about  to  die  and  you  ask  me 
if  I  am  prepared.  Mr.  Preacher,  I  have  no  fear  of  the 
future,  no  terror  of  any  other  world.  There  may  be 
such  a  place  as  hell — but  if  there  is,  you  never  can 
make  me  believe  that  it  's  any  worse  than  old  Ver 
mont  "  &  & 

So  they  told  of  a  man  who  compared  himself  with  his 
dog.  "My  dog,"  he  said,  "just  barks  and  plays — has 
all  he  wants  to  eat.  He  never  works — has  no  trouble 
about  business.  In  a  little  while  he  dies,  and  that  is 
all.  I  work  with  all  my  strength.  I  have  no  time  to 
play.  I  have  trouble  every  day.  In  a  little  while  I  will 
die,  and  then  I  go  to  hell.  I  wish  that  I  had  been  a 
dog"  #-  #r 

Well,  while  the  cold  weather  lasted,  while  the  snows 
fell,  the  revival  went  on,  but  when  the  winter  was 
over,  when  the  steamboat's  whistle  was  heard,  when 
business  started  again,  most  of  the  converts  "back 
slid"  and  fell  again  into  their  old  ways.  But  the  next 
winter  they  were  on  hand,  ready  to  be  "  born  again." 
They  formed  a  kind  of  stock  company,  playing  the 
same  parts  every  winter  and  backsliding  every  spring. 
Of  The  ministers,  who  preached  at  these  revivals, 
were  in  earnest.  They  were  zealous  and  sincere.  They 
were  not  philosophers.  To  them  science  was  the  name 
of  a  vague  dread — a  dangerous  enemy.  They  did  not 
know  much,  but  they  believed  a  great  deal.  To  them 
hell  was  a  burning  reality — they  could  see  the  smoke 


5o ROBERT     INGERSOLL 

and  flames.  The  Devil  was  no  myth.  He  was  an  actual 
person,  a  rival  of  God,  an  enemy  of  mankind.  They 
thought  that  the  important  business  of  this  life  was 
to  save  your  soul — that  all  should  resist  and  scorn  the 
pleasures  of  sense,  and  keep  their  eyes  steadily  fixed 
on  the  golden  gate  of  the  New  Jerusalem.  They  were 
unbalanced,  emotional,  hysterical,  bigoted,  hateful, 
loving,  and  insane.  They  really  believed  the  Bible  to 
be  the  actual  word  of  God — a  book  without  mistake 
or  contradiction.  They  called  its  cruelties,  justice — its 
absurdities,  mysteries — its  miracles,  facts,  and  the 
idiotic  passages  were  regarded  as  profoundly  spiritual. 
They  dwelt  on  the  pangs,  the  regrets,  the  infinite 
agonies  of  the  lost,  and  showed  how  easily  they  could 
be  avoided,  and  how  cheaply  heaven  could  be  ob 
tained.  They  told  their  hearers  to  believe,  to  have 
faith,  to  give  their  hearts  to  God,  their  sins  to  Christ, 
who  would  bear  their  burdens  and  make  their  souls 
as  white  as  snow. 

All  this  the  ministers  really  believed.  They  were  ab 
solutely  certain.  In  their  minds  the  Devil  had  tried  in 
vain  to  sow  the  seeds  of  doubt. 

I  heard  hundreds  of  these  evangelical  sermons — heard 
hundreds  of  the  most  fearful  and  vivid  descriptions  of 
the  tortures  inflicted  in  hell,  of  the  horrible  state  of 
the  lost.  I  supposed  that  what  I  heard  was  true  and 
yet  I  did  not  believe  it.  I  said:  "It  is,"  and  then  I 
thought:  "It  cannot  be." 

From  my  childhood  I  had  heard  read,  and  read  the 
Bible.  Morning  and  evening  the  sacred  volume  was 
opened  and  prayers  were  said.  The  Bible  was  my 
first  history,  the  Jews  were  the  first  people,  and  the 
events  narrated  by  Moses  and  the  other  inspired 
writers,  and  those  predicted  by  prophets  were  the  all 
important  things.  In  other  books  were  found  the 


ROBERT     INGERSOLL 51 

thoughts  and  dreams  of  men,  but  in  the  Bible  were 
the  sacred  truths  of  God. 

Yet  in  spite  of  my  surroundings,  of  my  education,  I 
had  no  love  for  God.  He  was  so  saving  of  mercy,  so 
extravagant  in  murder,  so  anxious  to  kill,  so  ready  to 
assassinate,  that  I  hated  him  with  all  my  heart.  At 
his  command,  babes  were  butchered,  women  violated, 
and  the  white  hair  of  trembling  age  stained  with  blood. 
This  God  visited  the  people  with  pestilence — filled  the 
houses  and  covered  the  streets  with  the  dying  and  the 
dead — saw  babes  starving  on  the  empty  breasts  of 
pallid  mothers,  heard  the  sobs,  saw  the  tears,  the 
sunken  cheeks,  the  sightless  eyes,  the  new-made 
graves,  and  remained  as  pitiless  as  the  pestilence. 
QThis  God  withheld  the  rain — caused  the  famine — 
saw  the  fierce  eyes  of  hunger — the  wasted  forms,  the 
white  lips,  saw  mothers  eating  babes,  and  remained 
ferocious  as  famine. 

It  seems  to  me  impossible  for  a  civilized  man  to  love 
or  worship,  or  respect  the  God  of  the  Old  Testament. 
A  really  civilized  man,  a  really  civilized  woman,  must 
hold  such  a  God  in  abhorrence  and  contempt. 
But  in  the  old  days  the  good  people  justified  Jehovah 
in  his  treatment  of  the  heathen.  The  wretches  who 
were  murdered  were  idolaters  and  therefore  unfit  to 
live  &  <& 

According  to  the  Bible,  God  had  never  revealed  him 
self  to  these  people  and  he  knew'  that  without  a  reve 
lation  they  could  not  know  that  he  was  the  true  God. 
Whose  fault  was  it  then  that  they  were  heathen  ? 
The  Christians  said  that  God  had  the  right  to  destroy 
them  because  he  created  them.  What  did  he  create 
them  for?  He  knew  when  he  made  them  that  they 
would  be  food  for  the  sword.  He  knew  that  he  would 
have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  them  murdered. 


52 ROBERT     INGERSOLL 

As  a  last  answer,  as  a  final  excuse,  the  worshipers  of 
Jehovah  said  that  all  these  horrible  things  happened 
under  the  "old  dispensation"  of  unyielding  law,  and 
absolute  justice,  but  that  now  under  the  "new  dis 
pensation,"  all  had  been  changed — the  sword  of  justice 
had  been  sheathed  and  love  enthroned.  In  the  Old 
Testament,  they  said,  God  is  the  judge — but  in  the 
New,  Christ  is  the  merciful.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
New  Testament  is  infinitely  worse  than  the  Old.  In 
the  Old  there  is  no  threat  of  eternal  pain.  Jehovah 
had  no  eternal  prison — no  everlasting  fire.  His  hatred 
ended  at  the  grave.  His  revenge  was  satisfied  when 
his  enemy  was  dead. 

In  the  New  Testament,  death  is  not  the  end,  but  the 
beginning  of  punishment  that  has  no  end.  In  the  New 
Testament  the  malice  of  God  is  infinite  and  the  hunger 
of  his  revenge  eternal. 

The  orthodox  God,  when  clothed  in  human  flesh,  told 
his  disciples  not  to  resist  evil,  to  love  their  enemies, 
and  when  smitten  on  one  cheek  to  turn  the  other,  and 
yet  we  are  told  that  this  same  God,  with  the  same 
loving  lips,  uttered   these   heartless,   these   fiendish 
words:  "  Depart  ye  cursed  into  everlasting  fire,  pre 
pared  for  the  Devil  and  his  angels." 
These  are  the  words  of  "  eternal  love." 
No  human  being  has  imagination  enough  to  conceive 
of  this  infinite  horror. 

All  that  the  human  race  has  suffered  in  war  and  want, 
in  pestilence  and  famine,  in  fire  and  flood, — all  the 
pangs  and  pains  of  every  disease  and  every  death — 
all  this  is  as  nothing  compared  with  the  agonies  to  be 
endured  by  one  lost  soul. 

This  is  the  consolation  of  the  Christian  religion.  This 
is  the  justice  of  God — the  mercy  of  Christ. 
This  frightful  dogma,  this  infinite  lie,  made  me  the 


ROBERT     INGERSQLL 53 

implacable  enemy  of  Christianity.  The  truth  is  that 
this  belief  in  eternal  pain  has  been  the  real  perse 
cutor.  It  founded  the  Inquisition,  forged  the  chains, 
and  furnished  the  fagots.  It  has  darkened  the  lives  of 
many  millions.  It  made  the  cradle  as  terrible  as  the 
cofiin.  It  enslaved  nations  and  shed  the  blood  of 
countless  thousands.  It  sacrificed  the  wisest,  the  bra 
vest  and  the  best.  It  subverted  the  idea  of  justice,  drove 
mercy  from  the  heart,  changed  men  to  fiends  and 
banished  reason  from  the  brain. 

Like  a  venomous  serpent  it  crawls  and  coils  and 
hisses  in  every  orthodox  creed. 

It  makes  man  an  eternal  victim  and  God  an  eternal 
fiend.  It  is  the  one  infinite  horror.  Every  church  in 
which  it  is  taught  is  a  public  curse.  Every  preacher 
who  teaches  it  is  an  enemy  of  mankind.  Below  this 
Christian  dogma,  savagery  cannot  go.  It  is  the  infinite 
of  malice,  hatred,  and  revenge. 

Nothing  could  add  to  the  horror  of  hell,  except  the 
presence  of  its  creator,  God. 

While  I  have  life,  as  long  as  I  draw  breath,  I  shall 
deny  with  all  my  strength,  and  hate  with  every  drop 
of  my  blood,  this  infinite  lie. 

Nothing  gives  me  greater  joy  than  to  know  that  this 
belief  in  eternal  pain  is  growing  weaker  every  day — 
that  thousands  of  ministers  are  ashamed  of  it.  It  gives 
me  joy  to  know  that  Christians  are  becoming  merci 
ful,  so  merciful  that  the  fires  of  hell  are  burning  low — 
flickering,  choked  with  ashes,  destined  in  a  few  years 
to  die  out  forever. 

For  centuries  Christendom  was  a  mad-house.  Popes, 
cardinals,  bishops,  priests,  monks  and  heretics  were 
all  insane  jf  & 

Only  a  few — four  or  five  in  a  century,  were  sound  in 
heart  and  brain.  Only  a  few,  in  spite  of  the  roar  and 


54 ROBERT     INGERSOLL 

din,  in  spite  of  the  savage  cries,  heard  reason's  voice. 
Only  a  few  in  the  wild  rage  of  ignorance,  fear  and 
zeal  preserved  the  perfect  calm  that  wisdom  gives. 
QWe  have  advanced.  In  a  few  years  the  Christians 
will  become  humane  and  sensible  enough  to  deny  the 
dogma  that  fills  the  endless  years  with  pain. 


THE  world  is  getting  better.  We  are  gradually 
growing  honest,  and  men  everywhere,  even  in 
the  pulpit,  are  acknowledging  they  do  not  know- 
all  about  things.  There  was  little  hope  for  the  race  so 
long  as  an  individual  was  disgraced  if  he  did  not  pre 
tend  to  believe  a  thing  at  which  his  reason  revolted. 
We  are  simplifying  life — simplifying  truth.  The  man 
who  serves  his  fellow  men  best  is  he  who  simplifies. 
The  learned  man  used  to  be  the  one  who  muddled 
things,  who  scrambled  thought,  who  took  reason  away, 
and  instead,  thrust  upon  us  faith,  with  a  threat  of 
punishment  if  we  did  not  accept  it,  and  an  offer  of  re 
ward  if  we  did. 

We  have  now  discovered  that  the  so-called  learned 
man  had  no  authority,  either  for  his  threat  of  punish 
ment,  or  his  offer  of  reward.  Hypocrisy  will  not  now 
pass  current,  and  sincerity,  frozen  stiff  with  fright,  is 
no  longer  legal  tender  for  truth.  In  the  frank  acknowl 
edgment  of  ignorance  there  is  much  promise.  The  man 
who  does  not  know,  and  is  not  afraid  to  say  so,  is  in  the 
line  of  evolution.  But  for  the  head  that  is  packed  with 
falsehood  and  the  heart  that  is  faint  with  fear,  there  is 


ROBERT     INGERSOLL 55 

no  hope.  That  head  must  be  unloaded  of  its  lumber, 
and  the  heart  given  courage  before  the  march  of  prog 
ress  can  begin. 

Now  let  us  be  frank,  and  let  us  be  honest,  just  for  a 
few  moments.  Let  us  acknowledge  that  this  revolution 
in  thought  that  has  occurred  during  the  last  twenty- 
five  years  was  brought  about  mainly  by  one  individual. 
The  world  was  ripe  for  this  man's  utterance,  other 
wise  he  would  not  have  gotten  the  speaker's  eye.  A 
hundred  years  before  we  would  have  snuffed  him  out 
in  contumely  and  disgrace.  But  men  listened  to  him 
and  paid  high  for  the  privilege.  And  those  who  hated 
this  man  and  feared  him  most,  went,  too,  to  listen,  so  as 
to  answer  him  and  thereby  keep  the  planet  from  swing 
ing  out  of  its  orbit  and  sweeping  on  to  destruction. 
Wherever  this  man  spoke,  in  towns  and  cities  or  coun 
try,  for  weeks  the  air  was  heavy  with  the  smoke  of 
rhetoric,  and  reasons,  soggy  and  solid,  and  fuzzy  logic 
and  muddy  proof  were  dragged  like  siege  guns  to  the 
defense. 

They  dared  the  man  to  come  back  and  fight  it  out. 
The  clouds  were  charged  with  challenges,  and  the 
prophecy  was  made  and  made  again  that  never  in  the 
same  place  could  this  man  go  back  and  get  a  second 
hearing.  Yet  he  did  go  back  year  after  year,  and  crowds 
hung  upon  his  utterances  and  laughed  with  him  at  the 
scare-crow  that  had  once  filled  their  day  dreams,  made 
the  nights  hideous,  and  the  future  black  with  terror. 
Through  his  influence  the  tears  of  pity  put  out  the 


56 ROBERT     INGERSOLL 

fires  of  hell;  and  he  literally  laughed  the  devil  out  of 
court.  This  man,  more  than  any  other  man  of  his 
century,  made  the  clergy  free.  He  raised  the  standard 
of  intelligence  in  both  pew  and  pulpit,  and  the  preachers 
who  denounced  him  most,  often  were,  and  are,  the 
most  benefited  by  his  work. 
This  man  was  Robert  G.  Ingersoll. 
On  the  urn  that  encloses  his  ashes  should  be  these 
words:  LIBERATOR  OF  MEN.  When  he  gave  his 
lecture  on  "The  Gods"  at  Cooper  Union,  New  York 
City,  in  1872,  he  fired  a  shot  heard  'round  the  world. 
Q  It  was  the  boldest,  strongest,  and  most  vivid  utter 
ance  of  the  century. 

At  once  it  was  recognized  that  the  thinking  world  had 
to  deal  with  a  man  of  power.  Efforts  were  made  in 
dozens  of  places  to  bring  statute  law  to  bear  upon  him, 
and  the  State  of  Delaware  held  her  whipping  post 
in  readiness  for  his  benefit;  but  blasphemy  enactments 
and  laws  for  the  protection  of  the  Unknown  were 
inoperative  in  his  gracious  presence.  Ingersoll  was  a 
hard  hitter,  but  the  splendid  good  nature  of  the  man, 
his  freedom  from  all  personal  malice,  and  his  unsullied 
character  saved  him,  in  those  early  days,  from  the 
violence  that  would  surely  have  overtaken  a  smaller 
person. 

The  people  who  now  seek  to  disparage  the  name  and 
fame  of  Ingersoll  dwell  on  the  things  he  was  not,  and 
give  small  credit  for  that  which  he  was. 
They  demand  infinity  and  perfection,  not  quite  willing 


ROBERT     INGERSOLL 57 

yet  to  acknowledge  that  perfection  has  never  been 
incorporated  in  a  single  soul. 

Let  us  acknowledge  freely  that  Ingersoll  was  not  a 
pioneer  in  science.  Let  us  admit,  for  argument's  sake, 
that  Rousseau,  Voltaire,  Paine  and  Renan  voiced  every 
argument  that  he  put  forth.  Let  us  grant  that  he  was 
often  the  pleader,  and  that  the  lawyer  habit  of  painting 
his  own  side  large,  never  quite  forsook  him,  and  that 
he  was  swayed  more  by  his  feelings  than  by  his  intellect. 
Let  us  further  admit  that  in  his  own  individual  case 
there  was  small  evolution,  and  that  for  thirty  years  he 
threshed  the  same  straw.  And  these  things  being  said 
and  admitted,  nothing  more  in  truth  can  be  said  against 
the  man. 

But  these  points  are  neither  to  his  discredit  nor  dis 
grace.  On  them  you  cannot  construct  an  indictment— 
they  mark  his  limitations,  that  is  all. 
Ingersoll  gave  superstition  such  a  jolt  that  the  con 
sensus  of  intelligence  has  counted  it  out.  Ingersoll 
did  not  destroy  the  good — all  that  is  vital  and  excellent 
and  worthy  in  religion  we  have  yet,  and  in  such 
measure  as  it  never  existed  before. 
In  every  so-called  "Orthodox"  pulpit  you  can  now 
hear  sermons  calling  upon  men  to  manifest  their  religion 
in  their  work;  to  show  their  love  for  God  in  their 
attitude  toward  men  ;  to  gain  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
by  having  the  kingdom  of  heaven  in  their  own  hearts. 
C£  Ingersoll  pleaded  for  the  criminal,  the  weak,  the 
defenseless  and  the  depraved.  Our  treatment  toward  all 


58 ROBERT    INGERSOLL 

these  has  changed  marvelously  within  a  decade.  "When 
we  ceased  to  believe  that  God  was  going  to  damn  folks, 
we  left  off  damning  them  ourselves.  We  think  better 
now  of  God  and  we  think  better  of  men  and  women. 
Who  dares  now  talk  about  the  "hopelessly  lost"  ? 
You  cannot  afford  to  indict  a  man  who  practiced  every 
so-called  Christian  virtue,  simply  because  there  was 
a  flaw  or  two  in  his  "belief" — the  world  has  gotten 
beyond  that.  Everybody  now  admits  that  Ingersoll 
was  quite  as  good  a  man  as  those  who  denounced  him 
most.  His  life  was  full  of  kind  deeds  and  generous 
acts,  and  his  daily  walk  was  quite  as  blameless  as 
the  life  of  the  average  priest  and  preacher. 
Those  who  seek  to  cry  Ingersoll  down  reveal  either 
density  or  malice.  He  did  a  great  and  necessary  work, 
and  did  it  so  thoroughly  and  well  that  it  will  never 
have  to  be  done  again.  His  mission  was  to  liberalize 
and  to  Christianize  every  church  in  Christendom ;  and 
no  denomination,  be  its  creed  ever  so  ossified,  stands 
now  where  it  stood  before  Ingersoll  began  his  crusade. 
He  shamed  men  into  sanity. 

Ingersoll  uttered  in  clarion  tones  what  thousands  of 
men  and  women  believed,  but  dared  not  voice.  He 
was  the  spokesman  for  many  of  the  best  thinkers  of 
his  time.  He  abolished  fear,  gave  courage  in  place  of 
cringing  doubt,  and  lived  what  he  believed  was  truth. 
His  was  a  brave,  cheerful  and  kindly  life.  He  was 
loved  most  by  those  who  knew  him  best,  for  in  his 
nature  there  was  neither  duplicity  nor  concealment. 


ROBERT     INGERSOLL 


59 


He  had  nothing  to  hide.  We  know  and  acknowledge 
the  man's  limitations,  yet  we  realize  his  worth :  his 
influence  in  the  cause  of  simplicity  and  honesty  has 
been  priceless. 

The  dust  of  conflict  has  not  yet  settled ;  prejudice 
still  is  in  the  air,  but  time,  the  great  adjuster,  will 
give  Ingersoll  his  due.  The  history  of  America's 
thought  evolution  can  never  be  written  and  the  name 
of  Ingersoll  left  out.  In  his  own  splendid  personality 
he  had  no  rivals,  no  competitors.  He  stands  alone  ;  and 
no  name  in  liberal  thought  can  ever  eclipse  his.  He  pre 
pared  the  way  for  the  thinkers  and  the  doers  who 
shall  come  after,  and  in  insight  surpass  him,  reaching 
spiritual  heights  which  he,  perhaps,  could  never  attain. 
CJThis  earth  is  a  better  place,  and  life  and  liberty  are 
safer  because  Robert  G.  Ingersoll  lived. 
The  last  words  of  Ingersoll  were,  by  a  strange  coinci 
dence,  the  dying  words  of  his  brother  Ebon:  "I  am 
better!" — words  of  hope,  words  of  assurance  to  the 
woman  he  loved. 

Sane  to  the  last!  And  let  us,  too,  hope  that  these  dear 
words  are  true  of  all  the  countless  dead. 


HERE  ENDETH  THE  LITTLE  JOURNEY  TO  THE  HOME  OF 
ROBERT  INGERSOLL:  WRITTEN  BY  ELBERT  HUBBARD. 
THE  BORDERS,  INITIALS  AND  ORNAMENTS  DESIGNED 
BY  SAMUEL  WARNER,  PRESSWORK  BY  LOUIS  SCHELL, 
&  THE  WHOLE  DONE  INTO  A  BOOK  BY  THE  ROYCROFT- 
ERS  AT  THEIR  SHOP,  WHICH  IS  IN  EAST  AURORA,  IN 
THE  MONTH  OF  AUGUST,  IN  THE  YEAR  MCMIII  444 


mttit  3 

TO  THE  HOMES  OF 

EMINENT  ORATORS 

Vol.  XIII.  SEPT.,  1903.  No.  3 

By  ELBERT  HUBBARD 

Single  Copies,  25  cents 

By  the  Year,  $3.00 

GIFT   OF 
Dr.    Robert  T.   Sutherland 


One  book 
ning  on 
The  L 
de  luxe 
new  fo 
especia 
the  ori 
will  be 
The  pri 


Addre 
Shop, 


Entered  at  the  postoffice  at  East  Aurora,  New  York,  for  transmission 
as  second-class  mail  matter.   Copyright,  1902,  by  Elbert  Hubbard 


Little 
pouimeys 

To  the  Homes  ol 

EMINENT 
lORATORS 


UJttitten  by  Elbent 
Hubband  &  done 
into  a  Book  by  the 
Royei*oftet*$  at  the 
Shop,  u>hich  is  in 
East  fluttotta,ncu> 
Yoitk,  H.  D*1903 


IT  is  in  vain,  sir,  to  extenuate  the  matter.  Gentlemen  may  cry,  Peace, 
peace;  but  there  is  no  peace.  The  war  is  actually  begun.  The 
next  gale  that  sweeps  from  the  north  will  bring  to  our  ears  the  clash 
of  resounding  arms.  Our  brethren  are  already  in  the  field.  Why  stand 
we  here  idle?  What  is  it  that  gentlemen  wish?  What  would  they 
have  ?  Is  life  so  dear,  or  peace  so  sweet,  as  to  be  purchased  at  the 
price  of  chains  and  slavery  ?  Forbid  it,  Almighty  God ! — I  know  not 
what  course  others  may  take ;  but  as  for  me,  give  me  liberty  or  give 
me  death ! 


PATRICK     HENRY 


61 


|ARAH  SYME  was  a  blooming  widow, 
thirty-two  in  June — such  widows  are 
never  over  thirty-two — and  managed  her 
estate  of  a  thousand  acres  in  Hanover 
County,  Virginia,  with  business  ability. 
That  such  a  widow,  and  thirty-two, 
should  remain  a  widow  in  a  pioneer  coun 
try  was  out  of  the  question. 
She  had  suitors.  Their  horses  were  tied 
to  the  pickets  all  day  long. 
One  of  these  suitors  has  described  the 
widow  for  us.  He  says  she  was  "  lively 
in  disposition,"  and  he  also  uses  the 
words  "buxom"  and  "portly."  I  do  not 
like  these  expressions — they  suggest  too 
much,  so  I  will  none  of  them.  I  would 
rather  refer  to  her  as  lissome  and  wil 
lowy,  and  tell  how  her  sorrow  for  the 
dead  wrapped  her  'round  with  weeds 
and  becoming  sable — but  in  the  interests 
of  truth  I  dare  not. 

Some  of  her  suitors  were  widowers — 
ancient  of  days,  fat  and  falstaffian.  Others 
were  lean  and  lachrymose,  with  large 
families,  fortunes  impaired  and  futures 
mostly  behind.  Then  there  were  gay  fox 
hunting  holluschickies,  without  serious 
intent  and  minus  both  future  and  past 
worth  mentioning,  who  called  and  sat  on 


62 PATRICK     HENRY 

the  front  porch  because  they  thought  their  presence 
would  be  pleasing  and  relieve  the  tedium  of  widow 
hood  #*  j«r 

Then  there  was  a  young  Scotch  schoolmaster,  edu 
cated,  temperate,  and  gentlemanly,  who  came  to  in 
struct  the  two  children  of  the  widow  in  long  division 
and  who  blushed  to  the  crown  of  his  red  head  when 
the  widow  invited  him  to  tea. 

Have  a  care,  Widow  Syme !  Destiny  has  use  for  you 
with  your  lively  ways  and  portly  form.  You  are  to 
make  history,  help  mold  a  political  policy,  fan  the 
flames  of  war,  and  through  motherhood  make  your 
self  immortal.  Choose  your  casket  wisely,  O  "Widow 
Syme!  It  is  the  hour  of  Fate! 


THE  widow  was  a  Queen  Bee  and  so  had  a  per 
fect  right  to  choose  her  mate.  The  Scotchman 
proved  to  be  it.  He  was  only  twenty-five,  they 
say,  but  he  was  man  enough  when  standing  before  the 
Registrar  to  make  it  thirty.  When  he  put  his  red  head 
inside  the  church  door  some  one  cried,  "Genius!" 
And  so  they  were  married  and  lived  happily  ever  after. 
Q  And  the  name  of  the  Scotchman  was  John  Henry  — 
I'll  not  deceive  you,  Sweet! 

John  and  Sarah  were  well  suited  to  each  other. 
John  was  exact,  industrious,  practical.  The  wife  had 
a  lively  sense  of  humor,  was  entertaining  and  intelli 
gent.  Under  the  management  of  the  canny  Scot  the 


PATRICK     HENRY 63 

estate  took  on  a  look  of  prosperity.  The  man  was 
a  model  citizen — honors  traveled  his  way:  he  became 
colonel  of  the  local  militia,  county  surveyor,  and  finally 
magistrate.  Babies  arrived  as  rapidly  as  Nature  would 
allow  and  with  the  regularity  of  an  electric  clock — 
although,  of  course,  there  was  n't  any  electricity  then. 
QThe  second  child  was  named  Patrick,  Jr.,  in  honor 
and  in  deference  to  a  brother  of  the  happy  father — a 
clergyman  of  the  Established  Church.  Patrick  Henry 
always  subscribed  himself  "P.  Henry,  Jr.,"  &  whether 
he  was  ever  aware  that  there  was  only  one  Patrick 
Henry  is  a  question. 

There  were  nine  altogether  in  the  brood — eight  of  them 
good,  honest,  barn-yard  fowls. 
And  one  was  an  eagle. 

Why  this  was  so  no  one  knew — the  mother  did  n't 
know  and  the  father  could  not  guess.  All  of  them  were 
born  under  about  the  same  conditions,  all  received 
about  the  same  training — or  lack  of  it. 
However,  no  one  at  first  suspected  that  the  eagle  was 
an  eagle — over  a  score  of  years  were  to  pass  before  he 
was  suddenly  to  spread  out  strong,  sinewy  wings  and 
soar  to  the  ether. 

Patrick  Henry  caused  his  parents  more  trouble  and 
anxiety  than  all  the  rest  of  the  family  combined.  Pat 
rick  and  culture  had  nothing  in  common.  As  a  young 
ster  he  roamed  the  woods,  bare  of  foot  and  bare  of 
head,  his  only  garments  a  shirt  and  trousers  held  in 
place  by  a  single  gallus.  He  was  indolent,  dreamy, 


64 PATRICK     HENRY 

procrastinating,  frolicsome,  with  a  beautiful  aversion 
to  books,  and  a  fondness  for  fishing  that  was  carried 
to  the  limit.  The  boy's  mother  did  n't  worry  very 
much  about  the  youngster,  but  the  father  had  spells 
when  he  took  the  matter  to  the  Lord  in  prayer,  and 
afterward,  growing  impatient  of  an  answer,  fell  to  and 
used  the  tawse  without  mercy.  John  Henry  probably 
did  this  as  much  to  relieve  his  own  feelings  as  for  the 
good  of  the  boy,  but  doubtless  he  did  not  reason  quite 
that  far. 

Patrick  nursed  his  black  and  blue  spots  and  fell  back 
on  his  flute  for  solace. 

After  one  such  seance,  when  he  was  twelve  years  of 
age,  he  disappeared  with  a  colored  boy  about  his  own 
age.  They  took  a  shot  gun,  fishing  tackle  and  a  violin. 
They  were  gone  three  weeks,  during  which  time  Patrick 
had  not  been  out  of  his  clothes,  nor  once  washed  his 
face.  They  had  slept  out  under  the  sky  by  camp-fires. 
The  smell  of  smoke  was  surely  on  his  garments,  and 
his  parents  were  put  to  their  wits  to  distinguish  be 
tween  the  bond  and  the  free. 

Had  Patrick  been  an  only  child  he  would  have  driven 
his  mother  into  hysteria  and  his  father  to  the  flowing 
bowl  (I  trust  I  use  the  right  expression).  If  not  this, 
then  it  would  have  been  because  the  fond  parents  had 
found  peace  by  transforming  their  son  into  a  Little 
Lord  Fauntleroy.  Nature  shows  great  wisdom  in  send 
ing  the  young  in  litters — they  educate  each  other,  and 
so  divide  the  time  of  the  mother  that  attention  to  the 


PATRICK     HENRY 65 

individual  is  limited  to  the  actual  needs.  Too  much  in 
terference  with  children  is  a  grave  mistake. 
Patrick  Henry  quit  school  at  fifteen  with  a  love  for 
'rithmetic — it  was  such  a  fine  puzzle — and  an  equal 
regard  for  history — history  was  a  lot  o'  good  stories. 
For  two  years  he  rode  wild  horses,  tramped  the  woods 
with  rod  and  gun,  and  played  the  violin  at  country 
dances  jf  & 

Another  spasm  of  fear,  chagrin  and  discouragement 
sweeping  over  the  father  on  account  of  the  indifference 
and  profligacy  of  his  son,  he  decided  to  try  the  youth 
in  trade,  and  if  this  failed,  to  let  him  go  to  the  devil. 
So  a  stock  of  general  goods  was  purchased  and  Patrick 
and  William,  the  elder  brother,  were  shoved  off  upon 
the  uncertain  sea  of  commerce. 

The  result  was  just  what  might  have  been  expected. 
The  store  was  a  loafing  place  for  all  the  ne'er-do-wells 
in  the  vicinity.  Patrick  trusted  everybody — those  who 
could  not  get  trusted  elsewhere  patronized  Patrick. 
Things  grew  worse.  In  a  year,  when  just  eighteen  years 
old,  P.  Henry,  Jr.,  got  married — married  a  rollicking 
country  lass,  as  foolish  as  himself — done  in  bravado, 
going  home  from  a  dance,  calling  a  minister  out  on 
his  porch,  in  a  crazy  quilt,  to  perform  the  ceremony. 
John  Henry  would  have  applied  the  birch  to  this  hare 
brained  bridegroom,  and  the  father  of  the  girl  would 
have  stung  her  pink  and  white  anatomy,  but  Patrick 
coolly  explained  that  the  matter  could  not  be  undone — 
they  were  duly  married  for  better  or  for  worse,  and  so 


66 PATRICK     HENRY 

the  less  fuss  the  better.  Patrick  loved  his  Doxey,  and 
the  Doxey  loved  her  Patrick,  and  together  they  made 
as  precious  a  pair  of  beggars  as  ever  played  Gypsy 
music  at  a  country  fair. 

Most  of  the  time  they  were  at  the  home  of  the  bride's 
parents — not  by  invitation — but  they  were  there.  The 
place  was  a  wayside  tavern.  The  girl  made  herself 
useful  in  the  kitchen,  and  Patrick  welcomed  the  trav 
eler  and  tended  bar. 

So   things   drifted,    until    Patrick    was    twenty-four, 
when  one  fine  day  he  appeared  on  the  streets  of  Will- 
iamsburg.  He  had  come  in  on  horseback  and  his  boots, 
clothing,  hair  and  complexion  formed  a  chromatic  en 
semble  the  color  of  Hanover  County  clay.  The  account 
comes  from  his  old  time  comrade,  Thomas  Jefferson, 
who  was  at  Williamsburg  attending  college. 
"  I've  come  up  here  to  be  admitted  to  the  bar,"  gravely 
said  P.  Henry  to  T.  Jefferson. 
"But  you  are  a  bar-keeper  now,  I  hear." 
"Yes,"  said  Patrick,  "but  that  's  the  other  kind.  You 
see,  I  've  been  studying  law,  and  I  want  to  be  admitted 
to  practice." 

It  took  several  minutes  for  the  man  who  was  to  write 
the  Declaration  of  Independence  to  get  it  through  his 
head  that  the  matter  was  n't  a  joke.  Then  he  con 
ducted  the  lean,  lank,  rawboned  rustic  into  the  presence 
of  the  judges.  There  were  four  of  these  men,  Wythe, 
Pendleton,  Peyton  and  John  Randolph.  These  men 
were  all  to  be  colleagues  of  the  bumpkin  at  the  First 


PATRICK     HENRY 67 

Continental  Congress  at  Philadelphia,  but  that  lay  in 
the  misty  future. 

They  looked  at  the  candidate  in  surprise;  two  of  them 
laughed  and  two  looked  needlessly  solemn.  However, 
after  some  little  parley,  they  consented  to  examine 
the  clown  as  to  his  fitness  to  practice  law. 
In  answer  to  the  first  question  as  to  how  long  he  had 
studied,  his  reply  was,  "About  six  weeks." 
One  biographer  says  six  months,   and   still   another, 
with  anxious  intent  to  prove   the   excellence   of  his 
man,  says  six  years. 

We  had  better  take  Jefferson's  word — "Patrick  Henry's 
reply  was  six  weeks."  As  much  as  to  say,  "What 
difference  is  it  about  how  long  I  have  studied?  You 
are  here  to  find  out  how  much  I  know.  There  are  men 
who  can  get  more  in  six  weeks  than  others  can  in  six 
years — I  may  be  one  of  these." 

The  easy  indifference  of  the  fellow  was  sublime.  But 
he  did  know  a  little  law,  and  he  also  knew  a  deal  of 
history.  The  main  thing  against  him  was  his  unkempt 
appearance.  After  some  hesitation  the  judges  gave  the 
required  certificate,  with  a  little  lecture  on  the  side 
concerning  the  beauties  of  etiquette  and  right  attire 
as  an  adjunct  to  excellence  in  the  learned  professions. 
QYoung  Mr.  Jefferson  did  n't  wait  to  witness  the 
examination  of  his  friend — it  was  too  painful — and  be 
sides  he  did  not  wish  to  be  around  so  as  to  get  any  of  the 
blame  when  the  prayer  for  admission  was  denied. 
So  Patrick  had  to  find  Thomas.  "I've  got  it!"  said 


68 PATRICK     HENRY 

Patrick,  and  smiled  grimly  as  he  tapped  his  breast 
pocket  where  the  certificate  was  safely  stowed. 
Then  he  mounted  his  lean  dun  horse  and  rode  away, 
disappearing  into  the  forest. 


AS  a  pedagogic  policy  the  training  that  Patrick 
Henry  received  would  be  rank  ruin.  Educational 
systems  are  designed  for  average  intellects,  but 
as  if  to  show  us  the  littleness  of  our  little  schemes, 
Destiny  seems  to  give  her  first  prizes  to  those  who 
have  evaded  all  rules  and  ignored  every  axiom.  Rules 
and  regulations  are  for  average  men — and  so  are  aver 
age  prizes. 

Speak  it  softly :  There  are  several  ways  of  getting  an 
education.  Patrick  Henry  got  his  in  the  woods,  follow 
ing  winding  streams  or  lying  at  night  under  the  stars; 
by  mastering  horses  and  wild  animals ;  by  listening  to 
the  wrangling  of  lawyers  at  country  lawsuits,  and  the 
endless  talk  of  planters  who  sat  long  hours  at  the 
tavern,  willingly  leaving  the  labors  of  the  field  to  the 
sons  of  Ham. 

Thus,  at  twenty-four,  Patrick  Henry  had  first  of  all  a 
physical  constitution  like  watch-spring  steel — he  had 
no  nerves — fatigue  was  unknown  to  him — he  was  not 
aware  that  he  had  a  stomach.  His  intellectual  endow 
ment  lay  in  his  close  intimacy  with  Nature — he  knew 
her  and  was  so  a  part  of  her  that  he  never  thought  of 
her,  any  more  than  the  fishes  think  of  the  sea.  The 


PATRICK     HENRY 69 

continual  dwelling  on  a  subject  proves  our  ignorance 
of  it — we  discuss  only  that  for  which  we  are  reaching 
out  *r  *f 

Then,  Patrick  Henry  knew  men — he  knew  the  workers, 
the  toilers,  the  young,  the  old,  the  learned  and  the 
ignorant.  He  had  mingled  with  mankind  from  behind 
the  counter,  the  tavern  bar,  in  court  and  school  and 
in  church — by  the  roadside,  at  horse-races,  camp-meet 
ings,  dances  and  social  gatherings.  He  was  light  of 
foot,  ready  of  tongue,  and  with  no  thought  as  to  re 
spectability,  and  no  doubts  and  fears  regarding  the 
bread  and  butter  question.  He  had  no  pride,  save  pos 
sibly  a  pride  in  the  fact  that  he  had  none.  He  played 
checkers,  worked  out  mathematical  problems  in  his 
mind  to  astonish  the  loafers,  related  history  to  instruct 
them — and  get  it  straight  in  his  own  mind — and  told 
them  stories  to  make  them  laugh.  It  is  a  great  misfor 
tune  to  associate  only  with  cultured  people."  God  loves 
the  common  people,"  said  Lincoln,  "otherwise  He 
would  not  have  made  so  many  of  them."  Patrick  Henry 
knew  them ;  and  is  not  this  an  education — to  know  Life  ? 
QHe  knew  he  could  move  men;  that  he  could  mold 
their  thoughts  ;  that  he  could  convince  them  and  bring 
them  over  to  his  own  way  of  thinking.  He  had  done  it 
by  the  hour.  In  the  continual  rural  litigations,  he  had 
watched  lawyers  make  their  appeal  to  the  jury ;  he  had 
sat  on  these  juries,  and  he  knew  he  could  do  the  trick 
better.  Therefore,  he  wanted  to  become  a  lawyer. 
The  practice  of  law  to  him  was  to  convince,  befog,  or 


TO PATRICK     HENRY 

divert  the  jury;  he  could  do  it,  and  so  he  applied  for 
permission  to  practice  law. 

He  was  successful  from  the  first.  His  clownish  ways 
pleased  the  judge,  jury  and  spectators.  His  ready 
tongue  and  infinite  good  humor  made  him  a  favorite. 
There  may  not  be  much  law  in  Justice  of  the  Peace 
proceedings,  but  there  is  a  certain  rude  equity  which 
answers  the  purpose,  possibly,  better.  And  surely  it  is 
good  practice  for  the  fledgelings  :  the  best  way  to  learn 
law  is  to  practice  it.  And  the  successful  practice  of  the 
law  lies  almost  as  much  in  evading  the  law  as  in  com 
plying  with  it — I  suppose  we  should  say  that  softly, 
too.  In  support  of  the  last  proposition,  let  me  say  that 
we  are  dealing  with  P.  Henry,  Jr.,  of  Virginia,  arch- 
rebel,  and  a  defier  of  law  and  precedent.  Had  he  rev 
erenced  law  as  law,  his  name  would  have  been  writ  in 
water.  The  reputation  of  the  man  hinges  on  the  fact 
that  he  defied  authority. 

The  first  great  speech  of  Patrick  Henry  was  a  defi 
ance  of  the  Common  Law  of  England  when  it  got  in 
the  way  of  the  rights  of  the  people.  Every  immortal 
speech  ever  given  has  been  an  appeal  from  the  law  of 
man  to  the  Higher  Law. 

Patrick  Henry  was  twenty-seven ;  the  same  age  that 
Wendell  Phillips  was  when  he  discovered  himself. 
No  one  had  guessed  the  genius  of  the  man — least  of 
all  his  parents.  He  himself  did  not  know  his  power. 
The  years  that  had  gone  had  been  fallow  years — years 
of  failure — but  it  was  alia  getting  together  of  his  forces 


PATRICK     HENRY 71 

for  the  spring.  Relaxation  is  the  first  requisite  of 
strength. 

The  case  was  a  forlorn  hope,  and  Patrick  Henry,  the 
awkward  but  clever  country  pettifogger,  was  retained 
to  defend  the  "  Parsons'  Cause,"  because  he  had  opin 
ions  in  the  matter  and  no  reputation  to  lose. 
First,  let  it  be  known  that  Virginia  had  an  Established 
Church,  which  was  really  the  Church  of  England.  The 
towns  were  called  parishes,  and  the  selectmen,  or 
supervisors,  were  vestrymen.  These  vestrymen  hired 
the  rectors  or  preachers,  and  the  money  which  paid 
the  preachers  came  from  taxes  levied  on  the  people. 
Q  Now  the  standard  of  value  in  Virginia  was  tobacco, 
and  the  vestrymen,  instead  of  paying  the  parsons  in 
money,  agreed  to  pay  each  parson  sixteen  thousand 
pounds  of  tobacco,  with  curates  and  bishops  in  pro 
portion  jf  & 

But  there  came  a  bad  year;  the  tobacco  crop  was 
ruined  by  a  drought,  and  the  value  of  the  weed  doubled 
in  price. 

The  parsons  demanded  their  tobacco  ;  a  bargain  was 
a  bargain ;  when  tobacco  was  plentiful  and  cheap  they 
had  taken  their  quota  and  said  nothing.  Now  that  to 
bacco  was  scarce  and  high,  things  were  merely  equal 
ized  ;  a  contract  was  a  contract. 

But  the  people  complained.  The  theme  was  discussed 
in  every  tavern  and  store.  There  were  not  wanting  in 
fidels  to  say  that  the  parsons  should  have  prayed  for 
rain,  and  that  as  they  did  not  secure  the  moisture, 


72 PATRICK     HENRY 

they  were  remiss.  Others  asked  by  what  right  shall 
men  who  do  not  labor  demand  a  portion  of  the  crop 
from  those  who  plant,  hoe  and  harvest  ? 
Of  course  all  good  Church  people,  all  of  the  really 
loyal  citizens,  argued  that  the  Parsons  were  a  neces 
sary  part  of  the  state — without  them  society  would 
sink  into  savagery — and  as  they  did  their  duties,  they 
should  be  paid  by  the  people ;  they  served,  and  all  con 
tracts  made  with  them  should  be  kept. 
But  the  mutterings  of  discontent  continued,  and  to 
appease  the  people,  the  House  of  Burgesses  passed  a 
law  providing  that  instead  of  tobacco  being  a  legal 
tender,  all  debts  could  be  paid  in  money,  figuring  to 
bacco  at  the  rate  of  two  cents  per  pound.  As  tobacco 
was  worth  about  three  times  this  amount,  it  will  be 
seen  at  once  that  this  was  a  law  made  in  favor  of  the 
debtor  class.  It  cut  the  salaries  of  the  rectors  down 
just  two-thirds,  and  struck  straight  at  English  Com 
mon  Law,  which  provides  for  the  sacredness  of  con 
tract  &  4T 

The  rectors  combined  and  decided  to  make  a  test  case. 
The  Parsons  vs.  the  People — or,  more  properly,  "The 
Rev.  John  Maury  vs.  The  Colony  of  Virginia." 
Both  law  and  equity  were  on  the  side  of  the  Parsons. 
Their  case  was  clear ;  only  by  absolutely  overriding 
the  law  of  England  could  the  people  win.  The  array 
of  legal  talent  on  the  side  of  the  Church  included  the 
best  lawyers  in  the  Colony — the  Randolphs  and  other 
aristocrats  were  there. 


PATRICK     HENRY 73 

And  on  the  other  side  was  Patrick  Henry,  the  tall, 
lean,  lank,  sallow  and  uncouth  representative  of  the 
people.  Five  judges  were  on  the  bench,  one  of  whom 
was  the  father  of  Patrick  Henry. 

The  matter  was  opened  in  a  logical,  lucid,  judicial 
speech  by  the  Hon.  Jeremiah  Lyon.  He  stated  the  case 
without  passion  or  prejudice — there  was  only  one  side 
to  it  <T  4T 

Then  Patrick  Henry  arose.  He  began  to  speak ;  stopped, 
hesitated,  began  again,  shuffled  his  feet,  cleared  his 
throat,  and  his  father,  on  the  bench,  blushed  for  shame. 
The  auditors  thought  he  was  going  to  break  down — 
even  the  opposition  pitied  him. 

Suddenly,  his  tall  form  shot  up,  he  stepped  one  step 
forward  and  stood  like  a  statue  of  bronze — his  own 
father  did  not  recognize  him,  he  had  so  changed.  His 
features  were  transformed  from  those  of  a  clown  into 
those  of  command  and  proud  intelligence.  A  poise  so 
perfect  came  upon  him  that  it  was  ominous.  He  began 
to  speak — his  sentences  were  crystalline,  sharp,  clear, 
direct.  The  judges  leaned  forward,  the  audience  hung 
breathless  upon  his  words. 

He  began  by  showing  how  all  wealth  comes  from  labor 
applied  to  the  land.  He  pictured  the  people  at  their 
work,  showed  the  laborer  in  the  field  in  the  rains  of 
spring,  under  the  blaze  of  the  summer  sun,  amid  the 
frosts  of  autumn — bond  and  free  working  side  by  side 
with  brain  and  brawn,  to  wring  from  the  earth  a 
scanty  sustenance.  He  showed  the  homes  of  the  poor, 


74 PATRICK     HENRY 

the  mother  with  babe  at  her  breast,  the  girls  cooking 
at  the  fire,  others  tending  the  garden — all  the  process 
of  toil  and  travail,  of  patient  labor  and  endless  effort, 
were  rapidly  marshaled  forth.  Over  against  this,  he 
unveiled  the  clergy  in  broadcloth  and  silken  gowns, 
riding  in  carriages,  seated  on  cushions  and  living  a  life 
of  luxury.  He  turned  and  faced  the  opposition,  and 
shook  his  bony  finger  at  them  in  scorn  and  contempt. 
The  faces  of  the  judges  grew  livid  ;  many  of  the  Par 
sons,  unable  to  endure  his  withering  rebuke,  sneaked 
away :  the  people  forgot  to  applaud ;  only  silence  and 
the  stinging,  ringing  voice  of  the  speaker  filled  the  air. 
Q  He  accused  the  Parsons  of  being  the  defiers  of  the 
law;  the  people  had  passed  the  statute  ;  the  preachers 
had  come,  asking  that  it  be  annulled.  And  then  was 
voiced,  I  believe,  for  the  first  time  in  America,  the 
truth  that  government  exists  only  by  the  consent 
of  the  governed :  that  law  is  the  crystallized  opinion 
of  the  people — that  the  voice  of  the  people  is  the  voice 
of  God — that  the  act  of  the  Parsons,  in  seeking  to  over 
ride  the  will  of  the  people,  was  treason,  and  should 
be  punished.  He  defied  the  Common  Law  of  England 
and  appealed  to  the  Law  of  God — the  question  of  right 
— the  question  of  justice — to  whom  does  the  fruit  of 
labor  belong! 

Before  the  fiery,  overpowering  torrent  of  eloquence  of 
the  man,  the  reason  of  the  judges  fled.  There  was  but 
one  will  in  that  assembly,  and  that  will  was  the  will 
of  Patrick  Henry. 


PATRICK     HENRY  _  75 

IN  that  first  great  speech  of  his  life  —  probably  the 
greatest  speech  then  ever  given  in  Virginia  —  Patrick 
Henry  committed  himself  irrevocably  on  the  sub 
ject  of  human  rights.  The  theme  of  taxation  came  to 
him  in  a  way  it  never  had  before.  Men  are  taxed  that 
other  men  may  live  in  idleness.  Those  who  pay  the 
tax  must  decide  whether  the  tax  is  just  or  not  —  any 
thing  else  is  robbery.  We  shall  see  how  this  thought 
took  a  hold  on  Patrick's  very  life.  It  was  the  weak 
many  against  the  entrenched  few.  He  had  said  more 
than  he  had  intended  to  say  —  he  had  expressed  things 
which  he  never  before  knew  that  he  knew.  As  he  made 
truth  plain  to  his  auditors,  he  had  clarified  his  own 


The  heavens  had  opened  before  him  —  he  was  as  one 
transformed.  That  outward  change  in  his  appearance 
only  marked  an  inward  illumination  which  had  come 
to  his  spirit.  In  great  oratory  the  appearance  of  the 
man  is  always  changed.  Men  grow  by  throes  and  throbs, 
by  leaps  and  bounds.  The  idea  of  "Cosmic  Conscious 
ness  '  '  —  being  born  again  —  is  not  without  its  foundation 
in  fact  —  the  soul  is  in  process  of  gestation,  and  when 
the  time  is  ripe  the  new  birth  occurs,  and  will  occur 
again  and  again. 

Patrick  Henry  at  once  took  his  place  among  the  strong 
men  of  Virginia  —  he  was  a  personality  that  must  be 
reckoned  with  in  political  affairs.  His  law  practice 
doubled,  and  to  keep  it  down  he  doubled  his  prices  — 
with  the  usual  effect.  He  then  tried  another  expedient, 


76 PATRICK     HENRY 

and  very  few  lawyers  indeed  are  strong  enough  to  do 
this — he  would  accept  no  case  until  the  fee  was  paid 
in  advance.  "I  keep  no  books — my  fee  is  so  much — 
pay  this  and  I  will  undertake  your  case."  He  accepted 
no  contingent  cases,  and  if  he  believed  his  client  was 
in  the  wrong,  he  told  him  so,  and  brought  about  a  com 
promise.  Some  enemies  were  made  through  this  frank 
advice,  but  when  the  fight  was  once  on,  Patrick  Henry 
was  a  whirlwind  of  wrath — he  saw  but  one  side  and 
believed  in  his  client's  cause  as  though  it  had  been 
written  by  Deity  on  tables  of  stone. 
Long  years  after  the  death  of  Patrick  Henry,  Thomas 
Jefferson  made  some  remarks  about  Henry's  indolence, 
and  his  indisposition  to  write  out  things.  A  little 
more  insight,  or  less  prejudice,  would  have  shown 
that  Patrick  Henry's  plan  was  only  Nature's  scheme 
for  the  conservation  of  forces,  and  at  the  last  was  the 
highest  wisdom. 

By  demanding  the  fee  in  advance,  the  business  was 
simplified  immensely.  It  tested  the  good  faith  of  the 
would-be  litigant,  cut  down  the  number  of  clients, 
preserved  the  peace,  freed  the  secretions,  aided  diges 
tion  and  tended  to  sweet  sleep  o'  nights. 
Litigation  is  a  luxury  that  must  be  paid  for — by  the 
other  fellow,  we  expect  when  we  begin,  but  later  we 
find  we  are  it.  If  the  lawyers  would  form  a  union  and 
agree  not  to  listen  to  any  man's  tale  of  Woe  until  he 
placed  a  hundred  dollars  in  the  attorney's  ginger  jar, 
it  would  be  a  benefit  untold  to  humanity.  Contingent 


PATRICK     HENRY 77 

fees  and  blackmail  have  much  in  common.  Q  A  man 
who  could  speak  in  public  like  Patrick  Henry  was 
destined  for  a  political  career.  A  vacancy  in  the 
State  Legislature  occurring,  the  tide  of  events  carried 
him  in.  Hardly  had  he  taken  the  oath  and  been  seated 
before  the  house  resolved  itself  into  a  Committee  of 
the  Whole  to  consider  the  Stamp  Act.  Mutterings 
from  New  England  had  been  heard,  but  Virginia  was 
inclined  to  abide  by  the  acts  of  the  Mother  Country, 
gaining  merely  such  modifications  as  could  be  brought 
about  by  modest  argument  and  respectful  petition. 
And  in  truth  let  it  be  stated  that  the  Mother  Country 
had  not  shown  herself  blind  to  the  rights  of  the  Colonies, 
nor  deaf  to  their  prayers — the  aristocrats  of  Virginia 
usually  got  what  they  wanted.  QThe  Stamp  Act  was 
up  for  discussion — the  gavel  rapped  for  order  and  the 
Speaker  declared  the  house  in  session. 
"Mr.  Speaker,"  rang  out  a  high,  clear  voice.  It  was 
the  voice  of  the  new  member.  Inadvertently  he  was 
recognized  and  had  the  floor.  There  -was  a  little 
more  "senatorial  courtesy"  then  than  now  in  de 
liberative  bodies,  and  one  of  the  unwritten  laws  of  the 
Virginia  Legislature  was  that  no  member  during  his 
first  session  should  make  an  extended  speech  or  take 
an  active  part  in  the  business  of  the  house. 
"Sir,  I  present  for  the  consideration  of  this  House  the 
following  resolutions."  And  the  new  member  read 
seven  resolutions  he  had  scrawled  off  on  the  fly  leaves 
of  a  convenient  law  book. 


78 PATRICK     HENRY 

As  he  read,  the  older  members  winced  and  writhed. 
Peyton  Randolph  cursed  him  under  his  breath.  This 
audacious  youth  in  buckskin  shirt  and  leather  breeches 
-was  assuming  the  leadership  of  the  House.  His  audacity 
was  unprecedented!  Here  are  Numbers  Five,  Six, 
and  Seven  of  the  Resolutions — these  give  the  meat 
of  the  matter: 

Resolved,  That  the  general  assembly  of  this  colony 
has  the  only  and  sole  exclusive  right  and  power  to 
lay  taxes  and  impositions  upon  the  inhabitants  of  this 
colony;  and  that  every  attempt  to  vest  such  power  in 
any  person  or  persons  whatsoever,  other  than  the 
general  assembly  aforesaid,  has  a  manifest  tendency 
to  destroy  British  as  well  as  American  freedom. 
Resolved,  That  His  Majesty's  liege  people,  the  in 
habitants  of  this  colony,  are  not  bound  to  yield  obedi 
ence  to  any  law  or  ordinance  whatever,  designed  to 
impose  any  taxation  whatsoever  upon  them,  other 
than  the  laws  or  ordinances  of  the  general  assembly 
aforesaid  jf  jf 

Resolved,  That  any  person  who  shall,  by  speaking  or 
writing,  assert  or  maintain  that  any  person  or  persons, 
other  than  the  general  assembly  of  this  colony,  have 
any  right  or  power  to  impose  or  lay  any  taxation  on 
the  people  here,  shall  be  deemed  an  enemy  to  His 
Majesty's  colony. 

As  the  uncouth  member  ceased  to  read,  there  went 
up  a  howl  of  disapproval.  But  the  resolutions  were 
launched,  and  according  to  the  rules  of  the  House  they 
could  be  argued,  and  in  order  to  be  repudiated,  must 
be  voted  upon. 
Patrick  Henry  stood  almost  alone.  Pitted  against  him 


PATRICK     HENRY 79 

was  the  very  flower  of  Virginia's  age  and  intellect. 
Logic,  argument,  abuse,  raillery  and  threat  were 
heaped  upon  his  head.  He  stood  like  adamant  and 
answered  shot  for  shot.  It  was  the  speech  in  the  "Par 
sons'  Cause"  multiplied  by  ten — the  theme  was  the 
same — the  right  to  confiscate  the  results  of  labor.  Be 
fore  the  debater  had  ceased,  couriers  were  carrying 
copies  of  Patrick  Henry's  resolutions  to  New  England. 
Every  press  printed  them — the  people  were  aroused, 
and  the  name  of  Patrick  Henry  became  known  in  every 
cot  and  cabin  throughout  the  Colonies.  He  was  the 
mouthpiece  of  the  plain  people;  what  Samuel  Adams 
stood  for  in  New  England,  Patrick  Henry  hurled  in 
voice  of  thunder  at  the  heads  of  aristocrats  in  Virginia. 
He  lighted  the  fuse  of  rebellion. 

One  passage  in  that  first  encounter  in  the  Virginia 
Legislature  has  become  deathless.  Hacknied  though 
it  be,  it  can  never  grow  old.  Referring  to  the  injustice 
of  the  Stamp  Act,  Patrick  Henry  reached  the  climax 
of  his  speech  in  these  words :  "  Caesar  had  his  Brutus ; 
Charles  the  First,  his  Cromwell;  &  George  the  Third — " 
"Treason,"  shouted  the  Speaker,  and  the  gavel  splint 
ered  the  desk.  "Treason!  treason,"  came  in  roars 
from  all  over  the  house.  Patrick  Henry  paused,  proud 
and  defiant,  waiting  for  the  tumult  to  subside — "And 
George  the  Third  may  profit  by  their  example.  If  this 
be  treason,  make  the  most  of  it !  "  And  he  took  his  seat. 
CJThe  resolutions  were  put  to  a  vote  and  carried.  Again 
Patrick  Henry  had  won. 


PATRICK     HENRY 


BY  a  singular  coincidence,  on  the  same  day  that 
Patrick  Henry,  of  his  own  accord,  introduced 
those  resolutions  at  Williamsburg,  a  mass 
meeting  was  held  in  Boston  to  consider  the  same 
theme,  and  similar  resolutions  were  passed.  There 
was  this  difference,  however—  Patrick  Henry  flung 
his  reasons  into  the  teeth  of  an  intrenched  opposition 
and  fought  the  fight  single-handed,  while  in  Boston 
the  resolutions  were  read  and  passed  by  an  assembly 
that  had  met  for  no  other  purpose. 
Patrick  Henry's  triumph  was  heralded  throughout 
New  England  and  gave  strength  and  courage  to  those 
of  feeble  knees.  From  a  Colonial  he  sprang  into  national 
fame,  and  his  own  words,  "I  am  not  a  Virginian  —  I 
am  an  American  !  "  went  ringing  through  New  England 
hills  rtf<r 

Meantime,  Patrick  Henry  went  back  to  his  farm  and 
law  office.  His  wife  rejoiced  in  his  success,  laughed 
with  him  at  his  mishaps  and  was  always  the  helpful, 
uncomplaining  comrade,  and  as  he  himself  expressed  it, 
"  My  best  friend."  And  when  he  would  get  back  home 
from  one  of  his  trips,  the  neighbors  would  gather  to 
hear  from  his  own  lips  about  what  he  had  done  &  said. 
He  was  still  the  unaffected  countryman,  seemingly 
careless,  happy  and  indolent.  It  was  on  the  occasion 
of  one  of  these  family  gatherings  that  a  contemporary 
saw  him  and  wrote,  "  In  mock  complaint  he  exclaimed, 
'  How  can  I  play  the  fiddle  with  two  babies  on  each 
knee  and  three  on  my  back!'" 


PATRICK     HENRY 81 

So  the  years  went  by  in  work,  play  and  gradually 
widening  fame.  Patrick  Henry  grew  with  his  work — 
the  years  gave  him  dignity — gradually  the  thought  of 
his  heart  'graved  its  lines  upon  his  face.  The  mouth 
became  firm  and  the  entire  look  of  the  man  was  that 
of  earnest  resolution.  Fate  was  pushing  him  on.  What 
once  was  only  whispered,  he  had  voiced  in  trumpet 
tones;  the  thought  of  liberty  was  being  openly  ex 
pressed  even  in  pulpits. 

He  had  been  returned  to  the  Legislature,  was  a  mem 
ber  of  the  Continental  Congress,  and  rode  horseback 
side  by  side  with  Washington  and  Pendleton  to  Phila 
delphia,  as  told  at  length  in  Washington's  diary. 
In  his  utterances  he  was  a  little  less  fiery,  but  in  his 
heart,  everybody  who  knew  him  at  all  realized  that 
there  dwelt  the  thought  of  liberty  for  the  Colonies. 
John  Adams  wrote  to  Abigail  that  Patrick  Henry  looked 
like  a  Quaker  preacher  turned  Presbyterian. 
A  year  later  came  what  has  been  rightly  called  the 
third  great  speech  of  Henry's  life,  the  speech  at  the 
Revolutionary  Convention  at  Richmond.  Good  people 
often  expect  to  hear  oratory  at  a  banquet,  a  lyceum 
lecture,  or  in  a  Sunday  sermon,  but  oratory  is  neither 
lecture,  talk,  harangue,  declamation  nor  preaching. 
Of  course  we  say  that  the  great  speech  is  the  one  that 
has  been  given  many  times,  but  the  fact  is,  the  great 
speech  is  never  given  but  once. 

The  time  is  ripe — the  hour  arrives — mighty  issues 
tremble  in  the  balances.  The  auditors  are  not  there  to 


82 PATRICK     HENRY 

be  amused  nor  instructed — they  have  not  stopped  at 
the  box-office  and  paid  good  money  to  have  their 
senses  alternately  lulled  and  tittilated — no!  The  ques 
tion  is  that  of  liberty  or  bondage,  life  or  death— pas 
sion  is  in  the  saddle, — hate  and  prejudice  are  sweeping 
events  into  a  maelstrom, — and  now  is  the  time  for 
oratory!  Such  occasions  are  as  rare  as  the  birth  of 
stars.  A  man  stands  before  you — it  is  no  time  for  fine 
phrasing — no  time  for  pose  or  platitude.  Self-conscious 
ness  is  swallowed  up  in  purpose.  He  is  as  calm  as 
the  waters  above  the  Rapids  of  Niagara,  as  composed 
as  a  lioness  before  she  makes  her  spring.  Intensity 
measures  itself  in  perfect  poise.  And  Patrick  Henry 
arises  to  speak.  Those  who  love  the  man  pray  for  him 
in  breathless  silence,  and  the  many  who  hate  him  in 
their  hearts,  curse  him.  Pale  faces  grow  paler,  throats 
swallow  hard,  hands  clutch  at  nothing  and  open  and 
shut  in  nervous  spasms.  It  is  the  hour  of  fate.  Patrick 
Henry  speaks: 


MR.  PRESIDENT:  It  is  natural  for  man  to  in 
dulge  in  the  illusions  of  hope.  We  are  apt  to 
shut  our  eyes  against  a  painful  truth,  and  listen 
to  the  song  of  the  siren  until  she  transforms  us  into 
beasts.  Is  this  the  part  of  wise  men,  engaged  in  a  great 
and   arduous  struggle    for   liberty?  Are  we  disposed 
to  be  of  the  number  of  those  who  having  eyes  see  not, 
and  having  ears  hear  not  the  things  which  so  nearly 
concern  their  temporal  salvation?  For  my  part,  what 
ever  anguish  of  spirit  it  may  cost,  I  am  willing  to  know 


PATRICK     HENRY 83 

the  whole  truth;  to  know  the  worst  &  to  provide  for  it. 
QI  have  but  one  lamp  by  which  my  feet  are  guided; 
and  that  is  the  lamp  of  experience.  I  know  of  no 
way  of  judging  of  the  future  but  by  the  past.  And 
judging  by  the  past,  I  "wish  to  know  what  there  has 
been  in  the  conduct  of  the  British  Ministry  for  the  last 
ten  years,  to  justify  those  hopes  with  which  gentlemen 
have  been  pleased  to  solace  themselves  and  this 
house?  Is  it  that  insidious  smile  with  which  our  peti 
tion  has  been  lately  received?  Trust  it  not,  it  will 
prove  a  snare  to  your  feet.  Suffer  not  yourselves  to  be 
betrayed  with  a  kiss.  Ask  yourselves  how  this  gracious 
reception  of  our  petition  comports  with  those  war 
like  preparations  which  cover  our  waters  and  darken 
our  land.  Are  fleets  and  armies  necessary  to  a  work 
of  love  and  reconciliation?  Have  we  shown  ourselves 
so  unwilling  to  be  reconciled  that  force  must  be  called 
in  to  win  back  our  love?  Let  us  not  deceive  ourselves, 
sir.  These  are  the  implements  of  war  and  subjugation 
— the  last  arguments  to  which  kings  resort.  I  say, 
gentlemen,  what  means  this  martial  array,  if  its  pur 
pose  be  not  to  force  us  to  submission?  Can  you  assign 
any  other  possible  motive  for  it  ?  Has  Britain  any  enemy 
in  this  quarter  of  the  world,  to  call  for  all  this  accumu 
lation  of  navies  and  armies?  No,  sir,  she  has  none. 
They  are  meant  for  us;  they  can  be  meant  for  no 
other.  They  are  sent  over  to  bind  and  rivet  upon  us 
those  chains  which  the  British  Ministry  have  been 
so  long  forging.  And  what  have  we  to  oppose  to  them? 
Shall  we  try  argument?  Sir,  we  have  been  trying  that 
for  the  last  ten  years.  Have  we  anything  new  to  offer 
upon  the  subject?  Nothing.  We  have  held  the  subject 
up  in  every  light  of  which  it  is  capable;  but  it  has 
been  all  in  vain.  Shall  we  resort  to  entreaty  and  humble 
supplication?  what  terms  shall  we  find  which  have 


84 PATRICK     HENRY 

not  been  already  exhausted?  Let  us  not,  I  beseech 
you,  deceive  ourselves  longer. 

Sir,  we  have  done  everything  that  could  be  done  to 
avert  the  storm  which  is  now  coming  on.  We  have 
petitioned,  we  have  remonstrated,  we  have  suppli 
cated,  we  have  prostrated  ourselves  before  the  throne, 
and  have  implored  its  interposition  to  arrest  the  ty 
rannical  hands  of  the  Ministry  and  Parliament.  Our 
petitions  have  been  slighted;  our  remonstrances  have 
produced  additional  violence  and  insult;  our  suppli 
cations  have  been  disregarded;  and  we  have  been 
spurned  with  contempt  from  the  foot  of  the  throne. 
In  vain,  after  these  things,  may  we  indulge  the  fond 
hope  of  peace  and  reconciliation.  There  is  no  longer 
any  room  for  hope.  If  we  wish  to  be  free,  if  we  mean 
to  preserve  inviolate  those  inestimable  privileges  for 
which  we  have  been  so  long  contending,  if  we  mean 
not  basely  to  abandon  the  noble  struggle  in  which 
we  have  been  so  long  engaged,  and  which  we  have 
pledged  ourselves  never  to  abandon  until  the  glori 
ous  object  of  our  contest  shall  be  obtained— we  must 
fight!  I  repeat  it,  sir,  we  must  fight!  An  appeal  to 
arms  and  to  the  God  of  Hosts  is  all  that  is  left  us! 
They  tell  us,  sir,  that  we  are  weak — unable  to  cope 
with  so  formidable  an  adversary.  But  when  shall  we 
be  stronger?  'Will  it  be  the  next  week,  or  the  next 
year?  Will  it  be  when  we  are  totally  disarmed,  and 
when  a  British  guard  shall  be  stationed  in  every 
house?  Shall  we  gather  strength  by  irresolution  and 
inaction?  Shall  we  acquire  the  means  of  effectual  re 
sistance  by  lying  supinely  on  our  backs,  and  hugging 
the  delusive  phantom  of  hope  until  our  enemies  shall 
have  bound  us  hand  and  foot?  Sir,  we  are  not  weak, 
if  we  make  a  proper  use  of  those  means  which  the 
God  of  nature  hath  placed  in  our  power.  Three  mil- 


PATRICK     HENRY 85 

lions  of  people,  armed  in  the  holy  cause  of  liberty,  and 
in  such  a  country  as  that  which  we  possess,  are  in 
vincible  by  any  force  which  our  enemy  can  send 
against  us.  Besides,  sir,  we  shall  not  fight  our  battles 
alone.  There  is  a  just  God  who  presides  over  the  des 
tinies  of  nations ;  and  who  will  raise  up  friends  to  fight 
our  battles  for  us.  The  battle,  sir,  is  not  to  the  strong 
alone;  it  is  to  the  vigilant,  the  active,  the  brave.  Be 
sides,  sir,  we  have  no  election.  If  we  were  base  enough 
to  desire  it,  it  is  now  too  late  to  retire  from  the  contest. 
There  is  no  retreat  but  in  submission  and  slavery  f 
Our  chains  are  forged;  their  clanking  may  be  heard  on 
the  plains  of  Boston!  The  war  is  inevitable — and  let 
it  come!  I  repeat  it,  sir,  let  it  come! 
It  is  in  vain,  sir,  to  extenuate  the  matter.  Gentlemen 
may  cry,  Peace,  peace;  but  there  is  no  peace.  The  war 
is  actually  begun.  The  next  gale  that  sweeps  from  the 
north  will  bring  to  our  ears  the  clash  of  resounding 
arms.  Our  brethren  are  already  in  the  field.  "Why  stand 
we  here  idle?  What  is  it  that  gentlemen  wish?  What 
would  they  have  ?  Is  life  so  dear,  or  peace  so  sweet, 
as  to  be  purchased  at  the  price  of  chains  and  slavery  ? 
Forbid  it,  Almighty  God!  I  know  not  what  course 
others  may  take,  but  as  for  me,  give  me  liberty  or  give 
me  death ! 


LIFE  is  a  gradual  death.  There  are  animals  and 
insects  that  die  on  the  instant  of  the  culmination 
of  the  act  for  which  they  were  created.  Success 
is  death,  and  death,  if  you  have  bargained  wisely  with 
fate,  is  victory. 

Patrick  Henry,  with  his  panther's  strength  and  nerves 
of  steel,  had  thrown  his  life  into  a  Cause — that  Cause 


86 PATRICK     HENRY 

had  won,  and  now  the  lassitude  of  dissolution  crept 
into  his  veins.  We  hear  of  hair  growing  white  in  a 
single  day,  and  we  know  that  men  may  round  out  a 
life-work  in  an  hour.  Oratory,  like  all  of  God's  greatest 
gifts,  is  bought  with  a  price.  The  abandon  of  the  orator 
is  the  spending  of  his  divine  heritage  for  a  purpose. 
Patrick  Henry  had  given  himself.  Even  in  his  law 
business  he  was  the  conscientious  servant,  and  having 
undertaken  a  cause,  he  put  his  soul  into  it.  Shame 
upon  those  who  call  this  man  indolent !  He  often  did  in 
a  day — between  the  rising  of  the  sun  and  its  setting — 
what  others  spread  out  thin  over  a  life-time  and  then 
fail  to  accomplish. 

And  now  virtue  had  gone  out  from  him.  Four  times 
had  Virginia  elected  him  Governor;  he  had  served  his 
state  well,  and  on  the  fifth  nomination  he  had  de 
clined.  When  Washington  wished  to  make  him  his 
Secretary  of  State,  he  smiled  and  shook  his  head, 
and  to  the  entreaty  that  he  be  Chief  Justice  of  the 
Supreme  Court,  he  said  that  there  were  others  who 
could  fill  the  place  better,  but  he  knew  of  no  one  who 
could  manage  his  farm. 

And  so  he  again  became  the  country  lawyer,  looked 
after  his  plantation,  attended  to  the  education  of  his 
children,  told  stories  to  the  neighbors  who  came  and 
sat  on  the  veranda — now  and  again  went  to  rustic 
parties,  played  the  violin,  and  the  voice  that  had  cried, 
"  Give  me  liberty  or  give  me  death,"  called  off  for  the 
merry  dancers  as  in  the  days  of  old. 


PATRICK     HENRY 


In  1799,  at  the  personal  request  of  Washington,  who 
needed,  or  thought  he  needed,  a  strong  advocate  at 
the  Capitol,  Patrick  Henry  ran  for  the  Legislature.  He 
was  elected,  but  before  the  day  arrived  when  he  was 
to  take  his  seat,  he  sickened  and  died,  surrounded  by 
his  stricken  family.  Those  who  knew  him,  loved  him — 
those  who  did  not  love  him,  did  not  know  him. 
And  a  Nation  mourned  his  taking  off. 


HERE  ENDETH  THE  LITTLE  JOURNEY  TO  THE  HOME  OF 
PATRICK  HENRY:  WRITTEN  BY  ELBERT  HUBBARD. 
THE  BORDERS,  INITIALS  AND  ORNAMENTS  DESIGNED 
BY  SAMUEL  WARNER,  PRESSWORK  BY  LOUIS  SCHELL, 
&  THE  WHOLE  DONE  INTO  A  BOOK  BY  THE  ROYCROFT- 
ERS  AT  THEIR  SHOP,  WHICH  IS  IN  EAST  AURORA,  IN 
THE  MONTH  OF  SEPTEMBER,  IN  THE  YEAR  MCMIII. 


TO  THE  HOMES  OF  EMINENT  ORATORS 


Vol.  XIII.   OCTOBER,  1903.  No.  4 


By  ELBERT  HUBBARD 


Single  Copies,  25  cents  By  the  Year,  $3.00 


GIFT   OF 
Dr.    Robert  T.    Sutherland 


Entered  at  the  postoffice  at  East  Aurora,  New  York,  for  transmission 
as  second-class  mail  matter.  Copyright,  1902,  by  Elbert  Hubbard 


Little  06 
Journeys 

|  To  the  Homes  of 

EMINENT 
[ORATORS 


Ulititten  by  Elbert 
Hubbapd  &  done 
into  a  Book  by  the 
Royci*oftei*$attbe 
Shop,  tobicb  is  in 
EastJhntot*a,neu> 
Yonk,fl.  D.  1903 


THE  chief  difference  between  a  wise  man  and  an  ignorant  one  is, 
not  that  the  first  is  acquainted  with  regions  invisible  to  the  sec 
ond,  away  from  common  sight  and  interest,  but  that  he  understands 
the  common  things  which  the  second  only  sees. 

—SIGHT  AND  INSIGHT. 


STARR    KING 


89 


|F  you  had  chanced  to  live  in  Boston  in 
the  early  Nineties,  alert  for  all  good 
things  in  a  mental  and  spiritual  way, 
you  would  have  made  the  Sundays  sa 
cred  to  Minot  Savage,  Phillips  Brooks 
and  Edward  Everett  Hale. 
Emerson  says  that  if  you  know  a  clergy 
man's  sect  and  behold  his  livery,  in 
spite  of  all  his  show  of  approaching  the 
subject  without  prejudice,  you  know  be 
forehand  exactly  to  what  conclusions  he 
will  come.  This  is  what  robs  most  ser 
mons  of  their  interest.  Preaching,  like 
humor,  must  have  in  it  the  element  of 
surprise.  I  remember  with  what  a  thrill 
of  delight  I  would  sit  and  watch  Minot 
Savage  unwind  his  logic  and  then  gently 
weave  it  into  a  fabric.  The  man  was  not 
afraid  to  follow  a  reason  to  its  lair.  He 
had  a  way  of  saying  the  thing  for  the  first 
time — it  came  as  a  personal  message, 
contradicting,  possibly,  all  that  had  been 
said  before  on  the  subject,  oblivious  of 
precedent. 

I  once  saw  a  man  with  a  line  around  his 
waist  leap  from  a  stranded  ship  into  the 
sea,  and  strike  out  boldly  for  the  shore. 
The  thrill  of  admiration  for  the  act  was 
unforgetable. 


go STARR     KING 

The  joy  of  beholding  a  strong  and  valiant  thinker 
plunge  into  a  theme  is  an  event.  Will  he  make  the 
shore?  or  will  he  go  down  to  defeat  before  these 
thousands  of  spectators  ? 

When  Minot  Savage  ceased  to  speak,  you  knew  he 
had  won — he  had  brought  the  line  safely  to  shore  and 
made  all  secure. 

Or,  if  you  have  heard  Rabbi  Hirsch  or  Felix  Adler,  you 
know  the  feeling.  These  men  make  a  demand  upon 
you — you  play  out  the  line  for  them,  and  when  all  is 
secure,  there  is  a  relief  which  shows  you  have  been 
under  an  intense  strain.  To  paraphrase  Browning, 
they  offer  no  substitute,  to  an  idle  man,  for  a  cushioned 
chair  and  cigar. 

Phillips  Brooks  made  small  demand  upon  his  auditors. 
If  I  heard  Minot  Savage  in  the  morning  and  got  wound 
up  tight,  as  I  always  did,  I  went  to  Vespers  at  Trin 
ity  Church  for  rest. 

The  soft,  sweet  playing  of  the  organ,  the  subdued 
lights,  the  far-away  voices  of  the  choir,  and  finally  the 
earnest  words  of  the  speaker,  worked  a  psychic  spell. 
The  sermon  began  nowhere  and  ended  nowhere — the 
speaker  was  a  great,  gentle  personality,  with  a  heart 
of  love  for  everybody  and  everything.  We  have  heard 
of  the  old  lady  who  would  go  miles  to  hear  her  pastor 
pronounce  the  word  Mesopotamia,  but  he  put  no  more 
soul  into  it  than  did  Phillips  Brooks.  The  service  was 
all  a  sort  of  lullaby  for  tired  souls — healing  and  helpful. 
Q  But  as  after  every  indulgence  there  comes  a  minor 


STARR    KING 91 

strain  of  dissatisfaction  following  the  awakening,  so  it 
was  here — it  was  beautiful  while  it  lasted.  Then  eight 
o'clock  would  come  and  I  would  be  at  Edward  Ever 
ett  Hale's.  This  sturdy  old  man  -with  his  towering 
form,  rugged  face  and  echoing  bass  voice,  would  open 
up  the  stops  and  give  his  blessed  "  Mesopotamia  "  like 
a  trumpet-call.  He  never  worked  the  soft  pedal.  His 
first  words  always  made  me  think  of  "  Boots  and  Sad 
dles  !  "  Be  a  man — do  something.  Why  stand  ye  here 
all  the  day  idle  ! 

And  there  was  love  and  entreaty,  too,  but  it  never 
lulled  you  into  forgetfulness.  There  was  intellect,  but 
it  did  not  ask  you  to  follow  it.  The  dear  old  man  did 
not  wind  in  and  out  among  the  sinuosities  of  thought 
— no,  he  was  right  out  on  the  broad  prairie,  under  the 
open  sky,  sounding  "  Boots  and  Saddles!" 
In  Dr.  Hale's  church  is  a  most  beautiful  memorial 
window  to  Thomas  Starr  King,  who  was  at  one  time 
the  pastor  of  this  church.  I  remember  Dr.  Hale  once 
rose  and  pointing  to  that  window,  said,  "  That  window 
is  in  memory  of  a  man !  But  how  vain  a  window,  how 
absurd  a  monument  if  the  man  had  not  left  his  impress 
upon  the  hearts  of  humanity !  That  beautiful  window 
only  mirrors  our  memories  of  the  individual." 
And  then  Dr.  Hale  talked,  just  talked  for  an  hour 
about  Starr  King. 

Dr.  Hale  has  given  that  same  talk  or  sermon  every 
year  for  thirty  years :  I  have  heard  it  three  times,  but 
never  twice  exactly  alike.  I  have  tried  to  get  a  printed 


92 STARR     KING 

copy  of  the  address,  but  have  so  far  failed.  Yet  this  is 
sure:  you  cannot  hear  Dr.  Hale  tell  of  Starr  King 
without  a  feeling  that  King  was  a  most  royal  speci 
men  of  humanity,  and  a  wish  down  deep  in  your 
heart  that  you,  too,  might  reflect  some  of  the  sterling 
virtues  that  he  possessed. 


STARR  KING  died  in  California  in  1864.  In  Golden 
Gate  Park,  San  Francisco,  is  his  statue  in  bronze. 
In  the  First  Unitarian  Church  of  San  Francisco 
is  a  tablet  to  his  memory ;  in  the  Unitarian  Church  at 
Oakland  are  many  loving  tokens  to  his  personality; 
and  in  the  State  House  at  Sacramento  is  his  portrait 
and  an  engrossed  copy  of  resolutions  passed  by  the 
Legislature  at  the  time  of  his  death,  wherein  he  is  re 
ferred  to  as  "the  man  whose  matchless  oratory  saved 
California  to  the  Union." 

"Who  was  Starr  King?"  I  once  asked  Dr.  Charles  H. 
Leonard  of  Tufts  College.  And  the  saintly  old  man 
lifted  his  eyes  as  if  in  prayer  of  thankfulness  and  an 
swered,  "  Starr  King !  Starr  King !  He  was  the  gentlest 
and  strongest,  the  most  gifted  soul  I  ever  knew — I 
bless  God  that  I  lived  just  to  know  Starr  King! " 
Not  long  after  this  I  asked  the  same  question  of  Dr.  C. 
A.  Bartol  that  I  had  asked  Dr.  Leonard,  and  the  reply 
was,  "He  was  a  man  who  proved  the  possible — in 
point  of  temper  and  talent,  the  most  virile  personality 
that  New  England  has  produced.  We  call  Webster 


STARR    KING 93 

our  greatest  orator,  but  this  man  surpassed  Webster: 
he  had  a  smile  that  was  a  benediction ;  a  voice  that 
was  a  caress.  We  admired  Webster,  but  Starr  King 
we  loved :  one  convinced  our  reason,  the  other  cap 
tured  our  hearts." 


THE  Oriental  custom  of  presenting  a  thing  to  the 
friend  who  admires  it,  symbols  a  very  great 
truth.   If  you  love  a  thing  well  enough,  you 
make  it  yours  jf  jf 

Culture  is  a  matter  of  desire ;  knowledge  is  to  be  had 
for  the  asking;  and  education  is  yours  if  you  want  it. 
All  men  should  have  a  college  education  in  order  that 
they  may  know  its  worthlessness.  George  William 
Curtis  was  a  very  prince  of  gentlemen,  and  as  an  ora 
tor  he  won  by  his  manner  and  by  his  gentle  voice  fully 
as  much  as  by  the  orderly  procession  of  his  thoughts. 
C{"O,  what  is  it  in  me  that  makes  me  tremble  so  at 
voices !  Whoever  speaks  to  me  in  the  right  voice,  him 
or  her  will  I  follow,"  says  Walt  Whitman. 
If  you  have  ever  loved  a  woman  and  you  care  to  go 
back  to  May-time  and  try  to  analyze  the  why  and  the 
wherefore,  you  probably  will  not  be  able  to  locate  the 
why  and  the  wherefore,  but  this  negative  truth  you 
will  discover :  you  were  not  won  by  logic.  Of  course 
you  admired  the  woman's  intellect — it  sort  of  matched 
your  own,  and  in  loving  her  you  complimented  your 
self,  for  thus  by  love  and  admiration  do  we  prove  our 


94 STARR     KING 

kinship  with  the  thing  loved.  QBut  intellect  alone  is 
too  cold  to  fuse  the  heart.  Something  else  is  required, 
and  for  lack  of  a  better  word  we  call  it  "  personality." 
This  glowing,  winning  personality  that  inspires  confi 
dence  and  trust  is  a  bouquet  of  virtues,  the  chief  flower 
of  which  is  Right  Intent — honesty  may  be  a  bit  old- 
fashioned,  but  do  not  try  to  leave  it  out. 
George  William  Curtis  and  Starr  King  had  a  frank, 
wide-open,  genuine  quality  that  disarmed  prejudice 
right  at  the  start.  And  both  were  big  enough  so  that 
they  never  bemoaned  the  fact  that  Fate  had  sent  them 
to  the  University  of  Hard  Knocks  instead  of  matricu 
lating  them  at  Harvard. 

I  once  heard  George  "William  Curtis  speak  at  St.  James 
Hall,  Buffalo,  on  Civil  Service  Reform — a  most  appal 
ling  subject  with  which  to  hold  a  "  popular  audience." 
He  was  introduced  by  the  Hon.  Sherman  S.  Rogers,  a 
man  who  was  known  for  ten  miles  up  the  creek  as  the 
greatest  orator  in  Erie  County.  After  the  speech  of 
introduction,  Curtis  stepped  to  the  front,  laid  on  the 
reading-desk  a  bundle  of  manuscript,  turned  one  page, 
and  began  to  talk.  He  talked  for  two  hours,  and  never 
once  again  referred  to  his  manuscript — we  thought  he 
had  forgotten  it.  He  himself  tells  somewhere  of  Ed 
ward  Everett  doing  the  same.  It  is  fine  to  have  a 
thing  and  still  show  that  you  do  not  need  it.  The  style 
of  Curtis  was  in  such  marked  contrast  to  the  blue- 
grass  article  represented  by  Rogers,  that  it  seemed  a 
rebuke.  One  was  florid,  declamatory,  strong,  full  ot 


STARR     KING 95 

reasons :  the  other  was  keyed  low — it  was  so  melodi 
ous,  so  gently  persuasive  that  we  were  thrown  off  our 
guard  and  did  n't  know  we  had  imbibed  rank  heresy 
until  we  were  told  so  the  next  day  by  a  man  who  was 
not  there.  As  the  speaker  closed,  an  old  lady  seated 
near  me,  sighed  softly,  adjusted  her  paisley  shawl  and 
said,  "That  was  the  finest  address  I  ever  heard,  ex 
cepting  one  given  in  this  very  hall  in  1859  by  Starr 
King."  &  & 

And  I  said,  "Well,  a  speech  that  you  can  remember 
for  twenty-five  years  must  have  been  a  good  one!" 
Q"It  wasn't  the  address  so  much  as  the  man,"  an 
swered  this  mother  in  Israel,  and  she  heaved  another 
small  sigh.  Q  And  therein  did  the  good  old  lady  drop  a 
confession.  I  doubt  me  much  whether  any  woman 
will  remember  any  speech  for  a  week — she  just  re 
members  the  man. 

And  this  applies  pretty  nearly  as  much  to  men,  too.  Is 
there  sex  in  spirit  ?  Hardly.  Thoreau  says  the  character 
of  Jesus  was  essentially  feminine.  Herbert  Spencer 
avers, "  The  high  intuitive  quality  which  we  call  genius 
is  largely  feminine  in  character."  "  Starr  King  was  the 
child  of  his  mother,  and  his  best  qualities  were  femi 
nine,"  said  the  Rev.  E.  H.  Chapin. 


"When  Starr  King's  father  died  the  boy  was  fifteen. 
There  were  five  younger  children  and  Starr  was  made 
man  of  the  house  by  Destiny's  acclaim.  Responsibility 
ripens.  This  slim,  slender  youth  became  a  man  in  a 


96 STARR     KING 

day.  ({The  father  had  been  the  pastor  of  the  Charles- 
town  Universalist  Church.  I  suppose  it  is  hardly  nec 
essary  to  take  a  page  and  prove  that  this  clergyman  in 
an  unpopular  church  did  not  leave  a  large  fortune  to 
his  family.  In  truth,  he  left  a  legacy  of  debts.  Starr 
King,  the  boy  of  fifteen,  left  school  and  became  clerk 
in  a  dry  goods  store.  The  mother  cared  for  her  house 
hold  and  took  in  sewing. 

Joshua  Bates,  master  of  the  Winthrop  school,  de 
scribes  Starr  King  as  he  was  when  the  father's  death 
cut  off  his  school  days :  "  Slight  of  build,  golden  haired,, 
active,  agile,  with  a  homely  face  which  everybody 
thought  was  handsome  on  account  of  the  beaming 
eyes,  the  winning  smile  and  the  earnest  desire  of  al 
ways  wanting  to  do  what  was  best  and  right." 
This  kind  of  a  boy  gets  along  all  right  anywhere — God 
is  on  his  side.  The  hours  in  the  dry  goods  store  were 
long,  and  on  Saturday  nights  it  was  nearly  midnight 
before  Starr  would  reach  home.  But  there  was  a  light 
in  the  window  for  him,  even  if  whale  oil  was  scarce ; 
and  the  mother  was  at  her  sewing.  Together  they  ate 
their  midnight  lunch,  and  counted  the  earnings  of  the 
week  iff  0- 

And  the  surprise  of  both  that  they  were  getting  a  liv 
ing  and  paying  off  the  debts  sort  of  cleared  the  atmos 
phere  of  its  gloom. 

In  Burke's  "  Essay  on  the  Sublime,"  he  speaks  of  the 
quiet  joy  that  comes  through  calamity  when  we  dis 
cover  that  the  calamity  has  not  really  touched  us.  The 


STARR    KING 97 

death  of  a  father  who  leaves  a  penniless  widow  and  a 
hungry  brood,  comes  at  first  as  a  shock — the  heavens 
are  darkened  and  hope  has  fled. 

I  know  a  man  who  was  in  a  railroad  wreck — the 
sleeping-car  in  which  he  rode  left  the  track  and  rolled 
down  an  embankment.  There  was  a  black  interval  of 
horror,  and  then  this  man  found  himself,  clad  in  his 
tinder-clothes,  standing  on  the  upturned  car,  looking 
up  at  the  Pleiades  and  this  thought  in  his  mind,  "  "What 
beauty  and  peace  are  in  these  winter  heavens!"  The 
calamity  had  come — he  was  absolutely  untouched — he 
was  locating  the  constellations  and  surprised  and 
happy  in  his  ability  to  enjoy  them. 
Starr  King  and  his  mother  sipped  their  midnight  tea 
and  grew  jolly  over  the  thought  of  their  comfortable 
home ;  they  were  clothed  and  fed,  the  children  well 
and  sleeping  soundly  in  baby  abandon  up-stairs,  the 
debts  were  being  paid.  They  laughed,  did  this  mother 
and  son,  really  laughed  aloud,  when  only  a  month  be 
fore  they  had  thought  that  only  gloom  and  misery 
could  ever  again  be  theirs. 
They  laughed ! 

And  soon  the  young  man's  salary  was  increased — 
people  liked  to  trade  with  him — customers  came  and 
asked  that  he  might  wait  on  them.  He  sold  more  goods 
than  any  one  in  his  department,  and  yet  he  never 
talked  things  onto  people.  He  was  alert,  affable,  kindly, 
and  anticipated  the  wishes  and  wants  of  his  customers 
without  being  subservient,  fawning  or  domineering. 


98 STARR     KING 

Q  This  kind  of  a  helper  is  needed  everywhere — the  one 
who  gives  a  willing  hand,  who  puts  soul  into  his  ser 
vice,  who  brings  a  glow  of  good-cheer  into  all  of  his 
relations  with  men. 

The  doing  things  with  a  hearty  enthusiasm  is  often 
what  makes  the  doer  a  marked  person  and  his  deeds 
effective.  The  most  ordinary  service  is  dignified  when 
it  is  performed  in  that  spirit.  Every  employer  wants 
those  who  work  for  him  to  put  heart  and  mind  into  the 
toil.  He  soon  picks  out  those  whose  souls  are  in  their 
service,  and  gives  them  evidence  of  his  appreciation. 
They  do  not  need  constant  watching.  He  can  trust 
them  in  his  absence,  and  so  the  places  of  honor  and 
profit  naturally  gravitate  to  them. 

The  years  went  by,  and  one  fine  day  Starr  King  was 
twenty  years  of  age.  All  of  the  debts  were  paid,  the 
children  were  going  to  school,  and  mother  and  son 
faced  the  world  from  the  vantage  ground  of  success. 
Starr  had  quit  the  dry  goods  trade  and  gone  to  teach 
ing  school  on  less  salary,  so  as  to  get  more  leisure  for 
study  <r  <T 

Incidentally  he  kept  books  at  the  Navy  Yard. 
About  this  time  Theodore  Parker  wrote  to  a  friend  in 
Maiden,  "  I  cannot  come  to  preach  for  you  as  I  would 
like,  but  with  your  permission  I  will  send  Thomas 
Starr  King.  This  young  man  is  not  a  regularly  ordained 
preacher,  but  he  has  the  grace  of  God  in  his  heart,  and 
the  gift  of  tongues.  He  is  a  rare  sweet  spirit,  and  I 
know  that  after  you  have  met  him  you  will  thank  me 


STARR     KING 99 

for  sending  him  to  you."  QThen  soon  we  hear  of 
Starr  King's  being  invited  to  Medford  to  give  a  Fourth 
of  July  oration,  and  also  of  his  speaking  in  the  Uni- 
versalist  churches  at  Cambridge,  Waltham,  Water- 
town,  Hingham  and  Salem — sent  to  these  places  by 
Dr.  E.  H.  Chapin,  pastor  of  the  Charlestown  Univer- 
salist  Church,  and  successor  to  the  Rev.  Thomas  F. 
King,  father  of  Starr  King. 

Starr  seems  to  have  served  as  sort  of  an  assistant  to 
Chapin,  and  thereby  revealed  his  talent  and  won  the 
heart  of  the  great  man.  Edwin  Hubbell  Chapin  was 
only  ten  years  older  than  Starr  King,  and  at  that  time 
had  not  really  discovered  himself,  but  in  discovering 
another  he  found  himself.  Twenty  years  later  Beecher 
and  Chapin  were  to  rival  each  other  for  first  place  as 
America's  greatest  pulpit  orator.  These  men  were  al 
ways  fast  friends,  yet  when  they  met  at  convention  or 
conference  folks  came  for  miles  to  see  the  fire  fly. 
"  Where  are  you  going?'*  once  asked  Beecher  of 
Chapin  when  they  met  by  chance  on  Broadway. 
"Where  am  I  going?"  repeated  Chapin,  "why,  if 
you  are  right  in  what  you  preach,  you  know  where  I 
am  going."  But  only  a  few  years  were  to  pass  before 
Chapin  said  in  public  in  Beecher's  presence,  "I  am 
jealous  of  Mr.  Beecher — he  preaches  a  better  Univer- 
salist  sermon  than  I  can."  Chapin  made  his  mark  upon 
the  time :  his  sermons  read  as  though  they  were  written 
yesterday,  and  carry  with  them  a  deal  of  the  swing 
and  onward  sweep  that  are  usually  lost  when  the 


ioo STARR    KING 

orator  attempts  to  write.  But  if  Chapin  had  done  noth 
ing  else  but  discover  Starr  King,  the  dry  goods  clerk, 
rescue  him  from  the  clutch  of  commerce  and  back  him 
on  the  orator's  platform,  he  deserves  the  gratitude  of 
generations.  And  all  this  I  say  as  a  business  man  who 
fully  recognizes  that  commerce  is  just  as  honorable 
and  a  deal  more  necessary  than  oratory.  But  there 
were  other  men  to  sell  thread  and  calico,  and  God  had 
special  work  for  Thomas  Starr  King. 
Chapin  was  a  graduate  of  Bennington  Seminary,  the 
school  that  also  graduated  the  father  of  Robert  Inger- 
soll.  On  Chapin's  request  Theodore  Parker,  himself  a 
Harvard  man,  sent  Starr  King  over  to  Cambridge  to 
preach.  Boston  was  a  college  town — filled  with  college 
traditions,  and  when  one  thinks  of  sending  out  this 
untaught  stripling  to  address  college  men,  we  cannot 
but  admire  the  temerity  of  both  Chapin  and  Parker. 
"He  has  never  attended  a  Divinity  School,"  writes 
Chapin  to  Deacon  Obadiah  B.  Queer  of  Quincy,  "but 
he  is  educated  just  the  same.  He  speaks  Greek,  He 
brew,  French,  German,  and  fairly  good  English,  as 
you  will  see.  He  knows  natural  history  and  he  knows 
humanity;  and  if  one  knows  man  and  Nature,  he 
comes  pretty  close  to  knowing  God." 
Where  did  this  dry  goods  clerk  get  his  education  ?  Ah, 
I  '11  tell  you — he  got  his  education  as  the  lion's  whelp 
gets  his.  The  lioness  does  not  send  her  cubs  away  to  a 
lioness  that  has  no  cubs  in  order  that  he  may  be 
taught.  The  lion-nature  gets  what  it  needs  with  its 


STARR    KING 


mother's  milk  and  by  doing.  Q  Schools  and  colleges 
are  cumbrous  make-shifts,  often  forcing  truth  on  pu 
pils  out  of  season,  and  thus  making  lessons  grievous. 
"The  soul  knows  all  things,"  says  Emerson,  "and 
knowledge  is  only  a  remembering."  "  When  the  time 
is  ripe,  men  know,"  wrote  Hegel.  At  the  last  we  can 
not  teach  anything  —  nothing  is  imparted.  We  cannot 
make  the  plants  and  flowers  grow  —  all  we  can  do  is 
to  supply  the  conditions,  and  God  does  the  rest.  In 
education  we  can  only  supply  the  conditions  for  growth 
—  we  cannot  impart,  nor  force  the  germs  to  unfold. 
Q  Starr  King's  mother  was  his  teacher.  Together  they 
read  good  books,  and  discussed  great  themes.  She  read 
for  him  and  he  studied  for  her.  She  did  not  treat  him 
as  a  child  —  things  that  interested  her  she  told  to  him. 
The  sunshine  of  her  soul  was  reflected  upon  his,  and 
thus  did  he  grow.  I  know  a  woman  whose  children 
will  be  learned,  even  though  they  never  enter  a  school 
room.  This  woman  is  a  companion  to  her  children  and 
her  mind  vitalizes  theirs.  This  does  not  mean  that  we 
should  at  once  do  away  with  schools  and  colleges,  but 
it  does  reveal  the  possible.  To  read  and  then  discuss 
with  a  strong  and  sympathetic  intellect  what  you  read 
is  to  make  the  thought  your  own  —  it  is  a  form  of  ex 
ercise  that  brings  growth. 

Starr  King's  mother  was  not  a  wonderful  nor  famous 
person  —  I  find  no  mention  of  her  in  Society's  Doings 
of  the  day  —  nothing  of  her  dress  or  equipage.  If  she 
was  "superbly  gowned,"  we  do  not  know  it;  if  she 


STARR     KING 


was  ever  one  of  the  "unbonneted,"  history  is  silent. 
All  we  know  is,  that  together  they  read  Bullfinch's 
Mythology,  Grote's  History  of  Greece,  Plutarch, 
Dante  and  Shakespeare.  We  know  that  she  placed  a 
light  in  the  window  for  him  to  make  his  home-coming 
cheerful,  that  together  they  sipped  their  midnight  tea, 
that  together  they  laughed,  and  sometimes  wept  —  but 
not  for  long. 


IN  1846  Chapin  was  thirty-two  years  old.  Starr  King 
was  twenty-two.  A  call  had  reached  Chapin  to 
come  up  higher ;  but  he  refused  to  leave  the  old 
church  at  Charlestown  unless  Starr  King  was  to  suc 
ceed  him.  To  place  a  young  man  in  the  position  of 
pastor  where  he  has  sat  in  the  pews,  his  feet  not 
reaching  the  floor,  is  most  trying.  Starr  King  knew 
every  individual  man,  woman  and  child  in  the  church, 
and  they  had  known  him  since  babyhood.  In  appear 
ance  he  was  but  a  boy,  and  the  dignity  that  is  sup 
posed  to  send  conviction  home  was  entirely  wanting. 
C£  But  Chapin  had  his  way  and  the  boy  was  duly  or 
dained  and  installed  as  pastor  of  the  First  Universalist 
Church  of  Charlestown. 

The  new  pastor  fully  expected  his  congregation  to 
give  him  "absent  treatment,"  but  instead,  the  audi 
ence  grew — folks  even  came  over  from  Boston  to  hear 
the  boy  preacher.  His  sermons  were  carefully  written, 
and  dealt  in  the  simple,  everyday  lessons  of  life.  To 


STARR     KING 103 

Starr  King  this  world  is  paradise  enow;  it 's  the  best 
place  of  which  we  know,  and  the  way  for  man  to  help 
himself  is  to  try  and  make  it  a  better  place.  There  is 
a  flavor  of  Theodore  Parker  in  those  early  sermons,  a 
trace  of  Thoreau  and  much  tincture  of  Emerson — and 
all  this  was  to  the  credit  of  the  boy  preacher.  His 
woman's  mind  absorbed  things. 

About  that  time  Boston  was  in  very  fact  the  intellec 
tual  hub  of  America.  Emerson  was  forty-three,  his 
"Nature"  had  been  published  anonymously,  and  al 
though  it  took  eight  years  to  sell  this  edition  of  five 
hundred  copies,  the  author  was  in  demand  as  a  lec 
turer,  and  in  some  places  society  conceded  him  re 
spectable.  Wendell  Phillips  was  addressing  audiences 
that  alternately  applauded  and  jeered.  Thoreau  had 
discovered  the  Merrimac  &  explored  Walden  'Woods  ; 
little  Dr.  Holmes  was  peregrinating  in  his  One  Hoss 
Shay,  vouchsafing  the  confidences  of  his  boarding 
house;  Lowell  was  beginning  to  violate  the  rules  of 
rhetoric ;  Whittier  was  making  his  plea  for  the  runa 
way  slave;  and  throughout  New  England  the  Lecture 
Lyceum  was  feeling  its  way. 

A  lecture  course  was  then  no  vaudeville — five  con 
certs  and  two  lectures  to  take  off  the  curse— not  that ! 
The  speakers  supplied  strong  meat  for  men.  The  stars 
in  the  lyceum  sky  were  Emerson,  Chapin,  Beecher, 
Holmes,  Bartol,  Phillips,  Ballou,  Everett,  and  Lowell. 
These  men  made  the  New  England  Lyceum  a  vast 
pulpit  of  free  speech  and  advanced  thought.  And  to  a 


"4 STARR    KING 

degree  the  Lyceum  made  these  men  what  they  were. 
They  influenced  the  times  and  were  influenced  by  the 
times.  They  were  in  competition  with  each  other.  A 
pace  had  been  set,  a  record  made,  and  the  audiences 
that  gathered  expected  much.  An  audience  gets  just 
what  it  deserves  and  no  more.  If  you  have  listened  to 
a  poor  speech,  blame  yourself. 

In  the  life  of  George  Francis  Train,  he  tells  that  in 
1840  Emerson  spoke  in  Waltham  for  five  dollars  and 
four  quarts  of  oats  for  his  horse — now  he  received 
twenty-five  dollars.  Chapin  got  the  same,  and  when 
the  Committee  could  not  afford  this,  he  referred  them 
to  Starr  King,  who  would  lecture  for  five  dollars  and 
supply  his  own  horse-feed. 

Two  years  went  by  and  calls  came  for  Starr  King  to 
come  up  higher.  Worcester  would  double  his  salary 
if  he  would  take  a  year's  course  at  the  Harvard  Divin 
ity  school.  Starr  showed  the  letter  to  Chapin,  and  both 
laughed.  Worcester  was  satisfied  with  Starr  King  as 
he  was,  but  what  would  Springfield  say  if  they  called 
a  man  who  had  no  theological  training?  And  then  it 
was  that  Chapin  said,  "Divinity  is  not  taught  in  the 
Harvard  Divinity  School,"  which  sounds  like  a  para 
phrase  of  Ernest  Kenan's,  "  You  will  find  God  any 
where  but  in  a  theological  seminary." 
King  declined  the  call  to  Worcester,  but  harkened  to 
one  from  the  Hollis  Street  Church  of  Boston.  He  went 
over  from  Universalism  to  Unitarianism  and  still  re 
mained  a  Universalist — and  this  created  quite  a  dust 


STARR    KING 105 

among  the  theologs.  Little  men  love  their  denomi 
nation  with  a  jealous  love — truth  is  secondary — they 
see  microscopic  difference  where  big  men  behold  only 
unity  *r  *T 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Starr  King  pronounced  this 
classic:  "The  difference  between  Universalism  and 
Unitarianism  is  that  Universalists  believe  that  God  is 
too  good  to  damn  them;  and  the  Unitarians  believe 
that  they  are  too  good  to  be  damned." 
At  the  Hollis  Street  Church  this  stripling  of  twenty- 
four  now  found  himself  being  compared  with  the  fore 
most  preachers  of  America.  And  the  man  grew  with 
his  work,  rising  to  the  level  of  events.  It  was  at  the 
grave  of  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  that  Edward  Ever 
ett  Hale  said:  "  The  five  men  who  have  influenced  the 
literary  and  intellectual  thought  of  America  most,  be 
lieved  in  their  own  divinity  no  less  than  in  the  divin 
ity  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth." 

The  destiny  of  the  liberal  church  is  not  to  become 
strong  and  powerful,  but  to  make  all  other  denomina 
tions  more  liberal.  When  Chapin  accused  Beecher  of 
preaching  Universalist  sermons,  it  was  a  home  thrust, 
because  Beecher  would  never  have  preached  such 
sermons  had  not  Murray,  Ballou,  Theodore  Parker, 
Chapin,  and  Starr  King  done  so  first — and  Beecher 
supplied  the  goods  called  for. 

Starr  King's  voice  was  deep,  melodious  and  far-reach 
ing,  and  it  was  not  an  acquired  "  Bishop's  voice  " — it 
was  his  own.  The  biggest  basso  I  ever  heard  was  just 


io6 STARR     KING 

five  feet  high  and  weighed  one  hundred  and  twenty  in 
his  stockings ;  Brignoli,  the  tenor,  weighed  two  hun 
dred  and  forty.  Avoirdupois  as  a  rule  lessens  the  vol 
ume  of  the  voice  and  heightens  the  register — you  can't 
have  both  adipose  and  chest  tone.  "Webster  and  Starr 
King  had  voices  very  much  alike,  and  "Webster,  by 
the  way,  was  n't  the  big  man  physically  that  the  school 
readers  proclaim.  It  was  his  gigantic  head  and  the 
royal  way  he  carried  himself  that  made  the  Liverpool 
stevedores  say,  "There  goes  the  King  of  America." 
Q  There  was  no  pomposity  about  Starr  King.  Dr.  Bar- 
tol  has  said  that  when  King  lectured  in  a  new  town 
his  homely,  boyish  face  always  caused  a  small  spasm 
of  disappointment,  or  merriment,  to  sweep  over  the 
audience.  But  when  he  spoke  he  was  a  transformed 
being,  and  his  deep,  mellow  voice  would  hush  the 
most  inveterate  whisperers. 

For  eleven  years  Starr  King  remained  pastor  of  the 
Hollis  Street  Church.  During  the  last  years  of  his  pas 
torate  he  was  much  in  demand  as  a  lecturer,  and  his 
voice  was  heard  in  all  the  principal  cities  as  far  west 
as  Chicago  jf  & 

His  lecture,  "  Substance  and  Show,"  deserves  to  rank 
with  Wendell  Phillips'  "The  Lost  Arts."  In  truth  it 
is  very  much  like  Phillips'  lecture.  In  "The  Lost 
Arts"  Phillips  tells  in  easy  conversational  way  of  the 
wonderful  things  that  once  existed;  and  Starr  King 
relates  in  the  same  manner  the  story  of  some  of  the 
-wonderful  things  that  are  right  here  and  all  around  us. 


STARR     KING 107 

It  reveals  the  mind  of  the  man,  his  manner  and  thought, 
as  well  as  any  of  his  productions.  The  great  speech  is 
an  evolution,  and  this  lecture,  given  many  times  in 
the  Eastern  States  under  various  titles,  did  not  touch 
really  high-water  mark  until  King  reached  California 
and  had  cut  loose  from  manuscript  and  tradition.  An 
extract  seems  in  order : 

Most  persons,  doubtless,  if  you  place  before  them  a 
paving-stone  and  a  slip  of  paper  with  some  writing  on 
it,  would  not  hesitate  to  say  that  there  is  as  much 
more  substance  in  the  rock  than  in  the  paper  as  there 
is  heaviness.  Yet  they  might  make  a  great  mistake. 
Suppose  that  the  slip  of  paper  contains  the  sentence, 
"  God  is  love  " ;  or,  "  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as 
thyself";  or,  "All  men  have  moral  rights  by  reason 
of  heavenly  parentage,"  then  the  paper  represents 
more  force  and  substance  than  the  stone.  Heaven  and 
earth  may  pass  away,  but  such  words  can  never  die 
out  or  become  less  real. 

The  word  "substance"  means  that  which  stands  un 
der  and  supports  anything  else.  "Whatever  then  cre 
ates,  upholds,  classifies  anything  which  our  senses 
behold,  though  we  cannot  handle,  see,  taste,  or  smell 
it,  is  more  substantial  than  the  object  itself.  In  this 
way  the  soul  which  vivifies,  moves,  and  supports  the 
body,  is  a  more  potent  substance  than  the  hard  bones 
and  heavy  flesh  which  it  vitalizes.  A  ten-pound  weight 
falling  on  your  head  affects  you  unpleasantly  as  sub 
stance,  much  more  so  than  a  leaf  of  the  New  Testa 
ment,  if  dropped  in  the  same  direction ;  but  there  is  a 
way  in  which  a  page  of  the  New  Testament  may  fall 
upon  a  nation  and  split  it,  or  infuse  itself  into  its  bulk 
and  give  it  strength  and  permanence.  We  should  be 


STARR     KING 


careful,  therefore,  what  test  we  adopt  in  order  to  de 
cide  the  relative  stability  of  things. 
There  is  a  very  general  tendency  to  deny  that  ideal 
forces  have  any  practical  power.  But  there  have  been 
several  thinkers  whose  scepticism  has  an  opposite 
direction.  "  We  cannot,"  they  say,  "  attribute  external 
reality  to  the  sensations  we  feel."  We  need  not  "won 
der  that  this  theory  has  failed  to  convince  the  unmet- 
aphysical  common  sense  of  people  that  a  stone  post  is 
merely  a  stubborn  thought,  and  that  the  bite  of  a  dog 
is  nothing  but  an  acquaintance  with  a  pugnacious, 
four-footed  conception.  When  a  man  falls  down  stairs 
it  is  not  easy  to  convince  him  that  his  thought  simply 
tumbles  along  an  inclined  series  of  perceptions  and 
comes  to  a  conclusion  that  breaks  his  head  ;  least  of 
all,  can  you  induce  a  man  to  believe  that  the  scolding 
of  his  wife  is  nothing  but  the  buzzing  of  his  own  wasp 
ish  thoughts,  and  her  too  free  use  of  his  purse  only  the 
loss  of  some  golden  fancies  from  his  memory.  We  are 
all  safe  against  such  idealism  as  Bishop  Berkeley  rea 
soned  out  so  logically.  Byron's  refutation  of  it  is  neat 
and  witty  : 

When  Bishop  Berkeley  says  there  is  no  matter, 
It  is  no  matter  what  Bishop  Berkeley  says. 

And  yet,  by  more  satisfactory  evidence  than  that  which 
the  idealists  propose,  we  are  warned  against  confound 
ing  the  conception  of  substance  with  matter,  and  con 
fining  it  to  things  we  can  see  and  grasp.  Science  steps 
in  and  shows  us  that  the  physical  system  of  things 
leans  on  spirit.  We  talk  of  the  world  of  matter,  but 
there  is  no  such  world.  Everything  about  us  is  a  mix 
ture  or  marriage  of  matter  and  spirit.  A  world  of  mat 
ter  —  there  would  be  no  motion,  no  force,  no  form,  no 
order,  no  beauty,  in  the  universe  as  it  now  is  ;  organ 
ization  meets  us  at  every  step  and  wherever  we  look; 


STARR    KING 109 

organization  implies  spirit, — something  that  rules,  dis 
poses,  penetrates  and  vivifies  matter. 
See  what  a  sermon  astronomy  preaches  as  to  the  sub 
stantial  power  of  invisible  things.  If  the  visible  universe 
is  so  stupendous,  what  shall  -we  think  of  the  unseen 
force  and  vitality  in  whose  arms  all  its  splendors 
rest?  It  is  no  gigantic  Atlas,  as  the  Greeks  fancied, 
that  upholds  the  celestial  sphere ;  all  the  constella 
tions  are  kept  from  falling  by  an  impalpable  energy 
that  uses  no  muscles  and  no  masonry.  The  ancient 
mathematician,  Archimedes,  once  said,  "Give  me  a 
foot  of  ground  outside  the  globe  to  stand  upon,  and  I 
will  make  a  lever  that  will  lift  the  world."  The  invisi 
ble  lever  of  gravitation,  however,  without  any  fulcrum 
or  purchase,  does  lift  the  globe,  and  makes  it  waltz, 
too,  with  its  blonde  lunar  partner,  twelve  hundred 
miles  a  minute  to  the  music  of  the  sun, — ay,  and  heaves 
sun  and  systems  and  Milky  Way  in  majestic  cotillions 
on  its  ethereal  floor. 

You  grasp  an  iron  ball,  and  call  it  hard ;  it  is  not  the 
iron  that  is  hard,  but  cohesive  force  that  packs  the 
particles  of  metal  into  intense  sociability.  Let  the  force 
abate,  and  the  same  metal  becomes  like  mush;  let  it 
disappear,  and  the  ball  is  a  heap  of  powder  which 
your  breath  scatters  in  the  air.  If  the  cohesive  energy 
in  nature  should  get  tired  and  unclench  its  grasp  of 
matter,  our  earth  would  instantly  become  "a  great 
slump";  so  that  which  we  tread  on  is  not  material 
substance,  but  matter  braced  up  by  a  spiritual  sub 
stance,  for  which  it  serves  as  the  form  and  show. 
All  the  peculiarities  of  rock  and  glass,  diamond,  ice 
and  crystal,  are  due  to  the  working  of  unseen  military 
forces  that  employ  themselves  under  ground, — in  cav 
erns,  beneath  rivers,  in  mountain  crypts,  and  through 
the  coldest  nights,  drilling  companies  of  atoms  into 


«o STARR     KING 

crystalline  battalions  and  squares,  and  every  caprice 
of  a  fantastic  order. 

When  we  turn  to  the  vegetable  kingdom,  is  not  the 
revelation  still  more  wonderful  ?  The  forms  which  we 
see  grow  out  of  substances  and  are  supported  by  forces 
which  we  do  not  see.  The  stuff  out  of  which  all  vege 
table  appearances  are  made  is  reducible  to  oxygen, 
hydrogen,  carbon  and  nitrogen.  How  does  it  happen 
that  this  common  stock  is  worked  up  in  such  different 
ways  ?  Why  is  a  lily  woven  out  of  it  in  one  place  and 
a  dahlia  in  another,  a  grape-vine  here,  and  a  honey 
suckle  there, — the  orange  in  Italy,  the  palm  in  Egypt, 
the  olive  in  Greece,  and  the  pine  in  Maine?  Simply 
because  a  subtile  force  of  a  peculiar  kind  is  at  work 
wherever  any  vegetable  structure  adorns  the  ground, 
and  takes  to  itself  its  favorite  robe.  We  have  outgrown 
the  charming  fancy  of  the  Greeks  that  every  tree  has 
its  Dryad  that  lives  in  it,  animates  it,  and  dies  when 
the  tree  withers.  But  we  ought,  for  the  truth's  sake, 
to  believe  that  a  life-spirit  inhabits  every  flower  and 
shrub,  and  protects  it  against  the  prowling  forces  of 
destruction.  Look  at  a  full-sized  oak,  the  rooted  Levi 
athan  of  the  fields.  Judging  by  your  senses  and  by  the 
scales,  you  would  say  that  the  substance  of  the  noble 
tree  was  its  bulk  of  bark  and  bough  and  branch  and 
leaves  and  sap,  the  cords  of  woody  and  moist  matter 
that  compose  it  and  make  it  heavy.  But  really  its  sub 
stance  is  that  which  makes  it  an  oak,  that  which  weaves 
its  bark  and  glues  it  to  the  stem,  and  wraps  its  rings 
of  fresh  wood  around  the  trunk  every  year,  and  pushes 
out  its  boughs  and  clothes  its  twigs  with  breathing 
leaves  and  sucks  up  nutriment  from  the  soil  continu 
ally,  and  makes  the  roots  clench  the  ground  with  their 
fibrous  fingers  as  a  purchase  against  the  storm,  and  at 
last  holds  aloft  its  tons  of  matter  against  the  constant 


STARR     KING «i 

tug  and  wrath  of  gravitation,  and  swings  its  Briarean 
arms  in  triumph,  in  defiance  of  the  gale.  Were  it  not 
for  this  energetic  essence  that  crouches  in  the  acorn 
and  stretches  its  limbs  every  year,  there  would  be  no 
oak;  the  matter  that  clothes  it  would  enjoy  its  stupid 
slumber;  and  when  the  forest  monarch  stands  up  in 
his  sinewy  lordliest  pride,  let  the  pervading  life-power, 
and  its  vassal  forces  that  weigh  nothing  at  all,  be  an 
nihilated,  and  the  whole  structure  would  wither  in  a 
second  to  inorganic  dust.  So  every  gigantic  fact  in  na 
ture  is  the  index  and  vesture  of  a  gigantic  force. 
Everything  which  we  call  organization  that  spots  the 
landscape  of  nature  is  a  revelation  of  secret  force  that 
has  been  wedded  to  matter,  and  if  the  spiritual  powers 
that  have  thus  domesticated  themselves  around  us 
should  be  cancelled,  the  whole  planet  would  be  a  huge 
Desert  of  Sahara, — a  bleak  sand-ball  without  shrub, 
grass-blade,  or  moss. 

As  we  rise  in  the  scale  of  forces  towards  greater  sub- 
tility  the  forces  become  more  important  and  efficient. 
Water  is  more  intimately  concerned  with  life  than 
rock,  air  higher  in  the  rank  of  service  than  water, 
electric  and  magnetic  agencies  more  powerful  than 
air:  and  light,  the  most  delicate,  is  the  supreme  magi 
cian  of  all.  Just  think  how  much  expenditure  of  me 
chanical  strength  is  necessary  to  water  a  city  in  the 
hot  summer  months.  What  pumping  and  tugging  and 
wearisome  trudging  of  horses  with  the  great  sprinklers 
over  the  tedious  pavement !  But  see  by  what  beautiful 
and  noiseless  force  nature  waters  the  world !  The  sun 
looks  steadily  on  the  ocean,  and  its  beams  lift  lakes  of 
water  into  the  air,  tossing  it  up  thousands  of  feet  with 
their  delicate  fingers,  and  carefully  picking  every  grain 
of  salt  from  it  before  they  let  it  go.  No  granite  reser 
voirs  are  needed  to  hold  in  the  Cochituates  and  Cro- 


STARR     KING 


tons  of  the  atmosphere,  but  the  soft  outlines  of  the 
clouds  hem  in  the  vast  weight  of  the  upper  tides  that 
are  to  cool  the  globe,  and  the  winds  harness  themselves 
as  steeds  to  the  silken  caldrons  and  hurry  them  along 
through  space,  while  they  disburse  their  rivers  of 
moisture  from  their  great  height  so  lightly  that  seldom 
a  violet  is  crushed  by  the  rudeness  with  which  the 
stream  descends. 

Our  conceptions  of  strength  and  endurance  are  so  as 
sociated  with  visible  implements  and  mechanical  ar 
rangements  that  it  is  hard  to  divorce  them,  and  yet  the 
stream  of  electric  fire  that  splits  an  ash  is  not  a  pon 
derable  thing,  and  the  way  in  which  the  loadstone 
reaches  the  ten-pound  weight  and  makes  it  jump  is  not 
perceptible.  You  would  think  the  man  had  pretty  good 
molars  that  should  gnaw  a  spike  like  a  stick  of  candy, 
but  a  bottle  of  innocent-looking  hydrogen  gas  will 
chew  up  a  piece  of  bar-iron  as  though  it  were  some 
favorite  Cavendish. 

The  prominent  lesson  of  science  to  men,  therefore,  is 
faith  in  the  intangible  and  invisible.  Shall  we  talk  of 
matter  as  the  great  reality  of  the  world,  the  prominent 
substance  ?  It  is  nothing  but  the  battle-ground  of  ter 
rific  forces.  Every  particle  of  matter,  the  chemists  tell 
us,  is  strained  up  to  its  last  degree  of  endurance.  The 
glistening  bead  of  dew  from  which  the  daisy  gently 
nurses  its  strength,  and  which  a  sunbeam  may  dissi 
pate,  is  the  globular  compromise  of  antagonistic  powers 
that  would  shake  this  building  in  their  unchained  rage. 
And  so  every  atom  of  matter  is  the  slave  of  imperious 
masters  that  never  let  it  alone.  It  is  nursed  and  ca 
ressed,  next  bandied  about,  and  soon  cuffed  and  kicked 
by  its  invisible  overseers.  Poor  atoms!  no  abolition 
societies  will  ever  free  them  from  their  bondage,  no 
colonization  movement  waft  them  to  any  physical 


STARR     KING 113 

Liberia.  For  every  particle  of  matter  is  bound  by  eter 
nal  fealty  to  some  spiritual  lords,  to  be  pinched  by 
one  and  squeezed  by  another  and  torn  asunder  by  a 
third ;  now  to  be  painted  by  this  and  now  blistered  by 
that ;  now  tormented  with  heat  and  soon  chilled  with 
cold ;  hurried  from  the  Arctic  Circle  to  sweat  at  the 
Equator,  and  then  sent  on  an  errand  to  the  Southern 
Pole ;  forced  through  transmigrations  of  fish,  fowl  and 
flesh ;  and,  if  in  some  corner  of  creation  the  poor  thing 
finds  leisure  to  die,  searched  out  and  whipped  to  life 
again  and  kept  in  its  constant  round. 
Thus  the  stuff  that  we  weigh,  handle  and  tread  upon 
is  only  the  show  of  invisible  substances,  the  facts  over 
which  subtle  and  mighty  forces  rule. 


STARR  KING  was  that  kind  of  a  plant  which  needs 
to  be  repotted  in  order  to  make  it  flower  at  its 
best.  Events  kept  tugging  to  loosen  his  tendrils 
from  his  early  environments.  People  who  live  on  Bos 
ton  Bay  like  to  remain  there.  We  have  all  heard  of  the 
good  woman  who  died  and  went  to  Heaven,  and  after 
a  short  sojourn  there  was  asked  how  she  liked  it,  and 
she  sighed  and  said,  "Ah,  yes,  it  is  very  beautiful,  but 
it  is  n't  East  Somerville !  " 

Had  Starr  King  consented  to  remain  in  Boston  he 
might  have  held  his  charge  against  the  ravages  of 
time,  secreted  a  curate,  taken  on  a  becoming  buffer  of 
adipose,  and  glided  off  by  imperceptible  degrees  on  to 
the  Superannuated  List. 
But  early  in  that  historic  month  of  April,  1860,  he  set 


ii4 STARR     KING 

sail  for  California,  having  accepted  a  call  from  the 
First  Unitarian  Church  of  San  Francisco.  This  was 
his  first  trip  to  the  Pacific  Coast,  but  New  England 
people  had  preceded  him,  and  not  being  able  to  return, 
they  wanted  Boston  to  come  to  them.  The  journey 
was  made  by  the  way  of  Panama,  without  any  special 
event.  The  pilot  who  met  the  ship  outside  of  Golden 
Gate  bore  them  the  first  news  that  Sumter  had  been 
fired  upon,  and  the  bombardment  was  at  the  time 
when  the  ship  that  bore  Starr  King  was  only  a  few 
miles  from  South  Carolina's  coast. 
'With  prophetic  vision  Starr  King  saw  the  struggle 
that  was  to  come,  and  the  words  of  'Webster,  uttered 
many  years  before,  rushed  to  his  lips : 

When  my  eyes  shall  be  turned  to  behold  for  the  last 
time  the  sun  in  heaven,  may  I  not  see  him  shining  on 
the  broken  and  dishonored  fragments  of  a  once  glori 
ous  Union ;  on  States  dissevered,  discordant,  belliger 
ent;  on  a  land  rent  with  civil  feuds,  or  drenched,  it 
may  be,  in  fraternal  blood !  Let  their  last  feeble  and 
lingering  glance  rather  behold  the  gorgeous  ensign  of 
the  republic  now  known  and  honored  throughout  the 
earth,  still  full  high  advanced,  its  arms  and  trophies 
streaming  in  their  original  lustre,  not  a  stripe  erased 
nor  polluted,  nor  a  single  star  obscured,  bearing  for  its 
motto  no  such  miserable  interrogatory  as  "What  is 
all  this  worth?"  nor  those  other  words  of  delusion 
and  folly,  "Liberty  first  and  Union  afterwards";  but 
everywhere,  spread  over  all  in  characters  of  living 
light,  blazing  on  all  its  ample  folds,  as  they  float  over 
the  sea  and  over  the  land,  and  in  every  wind  under 


STARR     KING 


the  -whole  heavens,  that  other  sentiment,  dear  to  every 
true  American  heart  —  Liberty  and  Union,  now  and 
forever,  one  and  inseparable  ! 

The  landing  was  made  on  Saturday,  and  the  following 
day  Starr  King  spoke  for  the  first  time  in  California. 
An  hour  before  the  service  was  to  begin,  the  church 
was  wedged  tight.  The  preacher  had  much  difficulty 
in  making  his  way  through  the  dense  mass  of  humanity 
to  reach  the  pulpit.  "Is  that  the  man?"  went  up  the 
smothered  exclamation,  as  Starr  King  reached  the 
platform  and  faced  his  audience.  His  slight,  slender 
figure  and  boyish  face  were  plainly  a  disappointment, 
but  this  was  not  to  last.  The  preacher  had  prepared  a 
sermon  —  such  a  sermon  as  he  had  given  many  times 
to  well-dressed,  orderly  and  cultured  Boston. 
And  if  this  California  audience  was  surprised,  the 
speaker  also  was  no  less.  The  men  to  women  were  as 
seven  to  one.  He  saw  before  him  a  sea  of  bronzed  and 
bearded  faces,  earnest,  attentive  and  hungry  for  truth. 
There  were  occasional  marks  of  dissipation  and  the 
riot  of  the  senses,  softened  by  excess  into  penitence  — 
whipped  out  and  homesick.  Here  were  miners  in  red 
flannel  shirts,  sailors,  soldiers  in  uniform  and  soldiers 
of  fortune.  The  preacher  looked  at  the  motley  mass  in 
a  vain  attempt  to  pick  out  his  old  friends  from  New 
England.  The  genteel,  slightly  blase  quality  of  culture 
that  leans  back  in  its  cushioned  pew  and  courteously 
waits  to  be  instructed,  was  not  there.  These  people 
did  not  lean  back,  they  leaned  forward,  and  with  parted 


ii6 STARR     KING 

lips  they  listened  for  every  word.  There  was  no  choir, 
and  when  "an  old  familiar  hymn"  was  lined  off  by  a 
volunteer  who  knew  his  business,  that  audience  arose 
and  sang  as  tho  it  would  shake  the  rafters  of  heaven. 
Q Those  who  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships,  sing;  shep 
herds  who  tend  their  flocks  by  night,  sing;  men  in  the 
forest  or  those  who  follow  the  trackless  plains,  sing. 
Congregational  singing  is  most  popular  among  those 
who  live  far  apart — to  get  together  and  sing  is  a  solace. 
Loneliness,  separation  and  heart  hunger  all  drive  men 
into  song  &  & 

These  men,  many  of  them  far  from  home,  lifted  up 
their  voices,  and  the  sounds  surged  through  that  church 
and  echoed,  surged  again  and  caught  even  the  preacher 
in  their  winding  waves.  He  started  in  to  give  one  ser 
mon  and  gave  another.  The  audience,  the  time,  the 
place,  acted  upon  him. 

Oratory  is  essentially  a  pioneer  product,  a  rustic  ar 
ticle.  Great  sermons  and  great  speeches  are  only  given 
to  people  who  have  come  from  afar. 
Starr  King  forgot  his  manuscript  and  pulpit  manners. 
His  deep  voice  throbbed  and  pulsed  with  emotion, 
and  the  tensity  of  the  times  was  upon  him.  "Without 
once  referring  directly  to  Sumter,  his  address  was  a 
call  to  arms  &  jf 

He  spoke  for  an  hour,  and  when  he  sat  down  he  knew 
that  he  had  won.  The  next  Sunday  the  place  was  again 
packed,  and  then  followed  urgent  invitations  that  he 
should  speak  during  the  week  in  a  larger  hall. 


STARR   KING 


California  was  trembling  in  the  balances,  and  orators 
were  not  wanting  to  give  out  the  arguments  of  Cal- 
houn.  They  showed  that  the  right  of  secession  was 
plainly  provided  for  in  the  Constitution.  Lincoln's  call 
for  troops  was  coldly  received,  and  from  several  San 
Francisco  pulpits  orthodox  clergymen  were  express 
ing  deep  regret  that  the  President  was  plunging  the 
country  into  civil  war. 

The  heart  of  Starr  King  burned  with  shame  —  to  him 
there  was  but  one  side  to  this  question  —  the  Union 
must  be  preserved. 

One  man  who  had  known  King  in  Massachusetts  wrote 
back  home  saying,  "  You  would  not  know  Starr  King  — 
he  is  not  the  orderly  man  of  genteel  culture  you  once 
had  in  Boston.  He  is  a  torrent  of  eloquence,  so  heart 
felt,  so  convincing,  so  powerful,  that  when  he  speaks 
on  Sunday  afternoon  out  on  the  sand-hills,  he  excites 
the  multitude  into  a  whirlwind  of  applause,  with  a 
basso  undertone  of  dissent  'which,  however,  seems  to 
grow  gradually  less." 

Loyalty  to  the  Union  was  to  him  the  one  vital  issue. 
His  fight  was  not  with  individuals  —  he  made  no  per 
sonal  issues.  And  in  several  joint  debates  his  courteous 
treatment  of  his  adversary  won  converts  for  his  cause. 
He  took  pains  to  say  that  personally  he  had  only 
friendship  and  pity  for  the  individuals  who  upheld  se 
cession  and  slavery  —  "The  man  in  the  wrong  needs 
friends  as  never  before,  since  he  has  ceased  to  be  his 
own.  Do  we  blame  a  blind  man  whom  we  see  rushing 


STARR     KING 


towards  a  precipice?"  QFrom  that  first  Sunday  he 
preached  in  San  Francisco,  his  life  was  an  ovation 
wherever  he  went.  Wherever  he  was  advertised  to 
speak,  multitudes  were  there  to  hang  upon  his  words. 
He  spoke  in  all  the  principal  towns  of  California  ;  and 
often  on  the  plains,  in  the  mountains,  or  by  the  sea 
shore,  men  would  gather  from  hundreds  of  miles  to 
hear  him  jf  <f 

He  gave  himself,  and  before  he  had  been  in  California 
a  year,  the  state  was  safe  for  the  Union,  and  men  and 
treasure  were  being  sent  to  Lincoln's  aid.  The  fame 
of  Starr  King  reached  the  President,  and  he  found  time 
to  write  several  letters  to  the  orator,  thanking  him  for 
what  he  had  done.  It  was  in  one  of  these  letters  that 
Lincoln  wrote,  "The  only  sermons  I  have  ever  been 
able  to  read  and  enjoy  are  those  of  John  Murray,"  —  a 
statement  which  some  have  attempted  to  smile  away 
as  showing  the  Rail-splitter's  astute  diplomacy. 
Starr  King  gave  his  life  to  the  Cause.  He  as  much  died 
for  the  Union  as  though  he  had  fallen  stricken  by  fly 
ing  lead  upon  the  field.  And  he  knew  what  he  was  do 
ing,  but  in  answer  to  his  warning  friends  he  said,  "  I 
have  only  one  life  to  live  and  now  is  my  time  to  spend 
it."  QFor  four  years,  lacking  two  months,  he  spoke 
and  preached  several  times  every  week.  All  he  made 
and  all  he  was  he  freely  gave. 

For  that  frail  frame  this  life  of  intensity  had  but  one 
end  &  *f 
The  Emancipation  Proclamation  had  been  issued,  but 


STARR    KING 


119 


Lee's  surrender  was  yet  to  be.  "May  I  live  to  see 
unity  and  peace  for  my  country,"  was  his  prayer. 
Starr  King  died  March  4th,  1864,  aged  forty  years.  The 
closing  words  of  his  lecture  on  Socrates  might  -well 
be  applied  to  himself: 

Down  the  river  of  Life,  by  its  Athenian  banks,  he  had 
floated  upon  his  raft  of  reason  serene,  in  cloudy  as  in 
smiling  weather.  And  now  the  night  is  rushing  down, 
and  he  has  reached  the  mouth  of  the  stream,  and  the 
great  ocean  is  before  him,  dim  heaving  in  the  dusk. 
But  he  betrays  no  fear.  There  is  land  ahead,  he 
thought;  eternal  continents  there  are,  that  rise  in 
constant  light  beyond  the  gloom.  He  trusted  still  in 
the  raft  his  soul  had  built,  and  with  a  brave  farewell 
to  the  true  friends  who  stood  by  him  on  the  shore,  he 
put  out  into  the  darkness,  a  moral  Columbus,  trusting 
in  his  haven  on  the  faith  of  an  idea. 


HERE  ENDETH  THE  LITTLE  JOURNEY  TO  THE  HOME 
OF  STARR  KING,  AS  WRITTEN  BY  ELBERT  HUBBARD. 
BORDERS,  INITIALS  AND  ORNAMENTS  DESIGNED  BY 
ROYCROFT  ARTISTS,  PRESSWORK  BY  LOUIS  SCHELL, 
&  THE  WHOLE  DONE  INTO  A  BOOK  BY  THE  ROYCROFT- 
ERS  AT  THEIR  SHOP,  WHICH  IS  IN  EAST  AURORA,  IN 
THE  MONTH  OF  OCTOBER,  IN  THE  YEAR  MCMIII  *  *  * 


TO  THE  HOMES  OF  EMINENT  ORATORS 


Vol.  XIII.  NOVEMBER,  1903.  No.  5 


By  ELBERT   HUBBARD 


Single  Copies,  25  cents  By  the  Year,  $3.00 


LITTLE  JOURNEYS 

TO     THE    HOMES     OF 

EMINENT    ORATORS 

By  ELBERT  HUBBARD 


SUBJECTS     AS     FOLLOWS: 

1  Pericles  7  Marat 

2  Mark  Antony  8  Robert  Ingersoll 

3  Savonarola  g  Patrick  Henry 

4  Martin  Luther  10  Thomas  Starr  King 

5  Edmund  Burke  n  Henry  Ward  Beecher 

6  William  Pitt  12  Wendell  Phillips 


One  booklet  a  month  will  be  issued  as  usual,  begin 
ning  on  January  I  St. 

The  LITTLE  JOURNEYS  for  1903  will  be  strictly 
de  luxe  in  form  and  workmanship.  The  type  will  be  a 
new  font  of  antique  Jplackface;  the  initials  "designed 
especially  for  this  work ;  a  frontispiece  portrait  from 
the  original  drawing  made  at  our  Shop.  The  booklets 
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The  price — 25  cents  each,  or  $3.00  for  the  year. 

Address  THE   ROYCROFTERS  at  their 
Shop,   which  is  at  East  Aurora,   New  York 

Entered  at  the  postomce  at  East  Aurora,  New  York,  for  transmission 
as  second-class  mail  matter.   Copyright,  1902,  by  Elbert  Hubbard 


Little  06 
3ouitneys 

To  the  Homes  of 

EMINENT 
ORATORS 


LUitittcn  by  Elbcitt] 
hi  ubband  &  done 
into  a  Book  by  the 
RoycrcftcFS  at  the 
Shop,  lobicb  i$  in 


Yoitk,fl.  D.  1903 


YOU  know  how  the  heart  is  subject  to  freshets;  you  know  how  the 
mother,  always  loving  her  child,  yet  seeing  in  it  some  new  wile 
of  affection,  will  catch  it  up  and  cover  it  with  kisses  and  break  forth 
in  a  rapture  of  loving.  Such  a  kind  of  heart-glow  fell  from  the  Saviour 
upon  that  young  man  who  said  to  him,  "  Good  Master,  what  good 
thing  shall  I  do  that  I  may  inherit  eternal  life  ?  "  It  is  said,  "  Then 
Jesus,  beholding  him,  loved  him." 


Henry  Ward  Beeolier 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 121 

|HE  influence  of  Henry  Ward  Beecher 
upon  his  time  was  marked.  And  now  the 
stream  of  his  life  is  lost  amid  the  ocean 
of  our  being.  As  a  single  drop  of  aniline 
in  a  barrel  of  water  will  tint  the  whole 
mass,  so  has  the  entire  American  mind 
been  colored  through  the  existence  of 
this  one  glowing  personality.  He  placed 
a  new  interpretation  on  religion,  and  we 
are  different  people  because  he  lived. 
Q  He  was  not  constructive,  not  admin 
istrative — he  wrote  much,  but  as  litera 
ture  his  work  has  small  claim  on  im 
mortality. He  was  an  orator,  and  the  busi 
ness  of  the  orator  is  to  inspire  other  men 
to  think  and  act  for  themselves. 
Orators  live  but  in  memory.  Their  des 
tiny  is  to  be  the  sweet  elusive  fragrance 
of  oblivion — the  thyme  and  mignonette 
of  things  that  were. 

The  limitations  in  the  all-'round  man 
are  by-products  which  are  used  by  des 
tiny  in  the  making  of  orators.  The  well 
ing  emotions,  the  vivid  imagination,  the 
forgetfulness  of  self,  the  abandon  to  feel 
ing — all  these  things  in  Wall  Street  are 
spurious  coin.  No  prudent  man  was  ever 
an  orator — no  cautious  man  ever  made 
a  multitude  change  its  mind,  when  it 


122 HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 

had  vowed  it  would  not.  Q  Oratory  is  indiscretion  set 
to  music  iff  jf 

The  great  orator  is  great  on  account  of  his  weaknesses 
as  well  as  on  account  of  his  strength.  So  why  should 
we  expect  the  orator  to  be  the  impeccable  man  of 
perfect  parts  ? 

These   essays   attempt   to   give   the    man — they   are 
neither  a  vindication  nor  an  apology. 
Edmund  Gosse  has  recently  said  something  so  wise 
and  to  the  point  on  the  subject  of  biography  that  I  can 
not  resist  the  temptation  to  quote  him : 

If  the  reader  will  but  bear  with  me  so  far  as  to  endure 
the  thesis  that  the  first  theoretical  object  of  the  biog 
rapher  should  be  indiscretion,  not  discretion,  I  will 
concede  almost  everything  practical  to  delicacy.  But 
this  must  be  granted  to  me :  that  the  aim  of  all  por 
traiture  ought  to  be  the  emphasizing  of  what  makes 
the  man  different  from,  not  like,  other  men.  The  widow 
almost  always  desires  that  her  deceased  hero  should 
be  represented  as  exactly  like  all  other  respectable 
men,  only  a  little  grander,  a  little  more  glorified.  She 
hates,  as  only  a  bad  biographer  can  hate,  the  telling 
of  the  truth  with  respect  to  those  faults  and  foibles 
which  made  the  light  and  shade  of  his  character.  This, 
it  appears,  was  the  primitive  view  of  biography.  The 
mass  of  medieval  memorials  was  of  the  "  expanded 
tract"  order:  it  was  mainly  composed  of  lives  of  the 
saints,  tractates  in  which  the  possible  and  the  impos 
sible  were  mingled  in  inextricable  disorder,  but  where 
every  word  was  intended  directly  for  edification.  Here 
the  biographer  was  a  moralist  whose  hold  upon  exact 
truth  of  statement  was  very  loose  indeed,  but  who 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 123 

was  determined  that  every  word  he  wrote  should 
strengthen  his  readers  in  the  faith.  Nor  is  this  gener 
ation  of  biographers  dead  to-day.  Half  the  lives  of  the 
great  and  good  men,  which  are  published  in  England 
and  America,  are  expanded  tracts.  Let  the  biographer 
be  tactful,  but  do  not  let  him  be  cowardly ;  let  him 
cultivate  delicacy,  but  avoid  its  ridiculous  parody, 
prudery  &  & 

And  I  also  quote  this  from  James  Anthony  Froude  : 
Q  The  usual  custom  in  biography  is  to  begin  with  the 
brightest  side  and  to  leave  the  faults  to  be  discovered 
afterwards.  It  is  dishonest  and  it  does  not  answer.  Of 
all  literary  sins,  Carlyle  himself  detested  most  a  false 
biography.  Faults  frankly  acknowledged  are  frankly 
forgiven.  Faults  concealed  work  always  like  poison. 
Burns'  offences  were  made  no  secret  of.  They  are 
now  forgotten,  and  Burns  stands  without  a  shadow  on 
him,  the  idol  of  his  countrymen. 

Byron's  diary  was  destroyed,  and  he  remains  and  will 
remain  with  a  stain  of  suspicion  about  him,  which  re 
vives  and  will  revive,  and  will  never  be  wholly  oblit 
erated.  "  The  truth  shall  make  you  free  "  in  biography 
as  in  everything.  Falsehood  and  concealment  are  a 
great  man's  worst  enemies. 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER  was  born  at  Litch- 
field,  Conn.,  June  23,  1813.  He  was  the  eighth 
child  of  Lyman  and  Roxana  Foote  Beecher. 
Like  Lincoln  and  various  other  great  men,   Beecher 
had  two  mothers :  the  one  who  gave  him  birth  and  the 
one  who  cared  for  him  as  he  grew  up.  Beecher  used 


124 HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 

to  take  with  him  on  his  travels  an  old  daguerreotype 
of  his  real  mother,  and  in  the  cover  of  the  case,  be 
neath  the  glass,  was  a  lock  of  her  hair — fair  in  color, 
and  bright  as  if  touched  by  the  kiss  of  the  summer  sun. 
Often  he  would  take  this  picture  out  and  apostrophize 
it,  just  as  he  would  the  uncut  gems  that  he  always 
carried  in  his  pockets.  "  My  first  mother,"  he  used  to 
call  her;  and  to  him  she  stood  as  a  sort  of  deity.  "  My 
first  mother  stands  to  me  for  love;  my  second  mother 
for  discipline;  my  father  for  justice,"  he  once  said  to 
Halliday  #  # 

I  am  not  sure  that  Beecher  had  a  well  defined  idea  of 
either  discipline  or  justice,  but  love  to  him  was  a  very 
vivid  and  personal  reality.  He  knew  what  it  meant — 
infinite  forgiveness,  a  lifelong,  yearning  tenderness,  a 
Something  that  suffereth  long  and  is  kind.  This  he 
preached  for  fifty  years,  and  he  preached  little  else. 
Lyman  Beecher  proclaimed  the  justice  of  God;  Henry 
"Ward  Beecher  told  of  His  love.  Lyman  Beecher  was 
a  logician,  but  Henry  Ward  was  a  lover.  There  is 
a  task  on  hand  for  the  man  who  attempts  to  prove 
that  Nature  is  kind,  or  that  God  is  love.  Perhaps  man 
himself,  with  all  his  imperfections,  gives  us  the  best 
example  of  love  that  the  universe  has  to  offer.  In 
preaching  the  love  of  God,  Henry  Ward  Beecher  re 
vealed  his  own ;  for  oratory,  like  literature,  is  only  a 
confession. 

"  My  first  mother  is  always  pleading  for  me — she 
reaches  out  her  arms  to  me — her  delicate,  long,  taper- 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 125 

ing  fingers  stroke  my  hair — I  hear  her  voice,  gentle 
and  low!"  Do  you  say  this  is  the  language  of  o'er- 
wrought  emotion  ?  I  say  to  you  it  is  simply  the  lan 
guage  of  love.  This  mother,  dead,  and  turned  to  dust, 
who  passed  out  when  the  boy  was  scarce  three  years 
old,  stood  to  him  for  the  ideal.  Love,  anyway,  is  a 
matter  of  the  imagination,  and  he  who  cannot  imagine 
cannot  love,  and  love  is  from  within.  The  lover  clothes 
the  beloved  in  the  garments  of  his  fancy,  and  woe  to 
him  if  he  ever  loses  the  power  to  imagine. 
Have  you  not  often  noticed  how  the  man  or  woman 
whose  mother  died  before  a  time  the  child  could  re 
call,  and  whose  memory  clusters  around  a  faded  pic 
ture  and  a  lock  of  hair — how  this  person  is  thrice 
blessed  in  that  the  ideal  is  always  a  shelter  when  the 
real  palls  ?  Love  is  a  refuge  and  a  defense.  The  Law 
of  Compensation  is  kind  :  Lincoln  lived,  until  the  day 
of  his  death,  bathed  in  the  love  of  Nancy  Hanks,  that 
mother,  worn,  yellow  and  sad,  who  gave  him  birth, 
and  yet  whom  he  had  never  known.  No  child  ever 
really  lost  its  mother — nothing  is  ever  lost.  Men  are 
only  grown-up  children,  and  the  longing  to  be  moth 
ered  is  not  effaced  by  the  passing  years.  The  type  is 
well  shown  in  the  life  of  Meissonier,  whose  mother 
died  in  his  childhood,  but  she  was  near  him  to  the  last. 
In  his  journal  he  wrote  this :  "  It  is  the  morning  of  my 
seventieth  birthday.  What  a  long  time  to  look  back 
upon !  This  morning,  at  the  hour  my  mother  gave  me 
birth,  I  wished  my  first  thoughts  to  be  of  her.  Dear 


i26 HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 

Mother,  how  often  have  the  tears  risen  at  the  remem 
brance  of  you !  It  was  your  absence — my  longing  for 
you — that  made  you  so  dear  to  me.  The  love  of  my 
heart  goes  out  to  you !  Do  you  hear  me,  Mother,  cry 
ing  and  calling  for  you  ?  How  sweet  it  must  be  to 
have  a  mother!  " 


ONE  might  suppose  that  a  childless  woman  sud 
denly  presented  by  fate  with  an  exacting  hus 
band  and  a  brood  of  nine  would  soon  be  a 
candidate  for  nervous  prostration;  but  Sarah  Porter 
Beecher  rose  to  the  level  of  events,  and  looked  after 
her  household  with  diligence  and  a  conscientious 
heart.  Little  Henry  Ward  was  four  years  old  and  wore 
a  red  flannel  dress,  outgrown  by  one  of  the  girls.  He 
was  chubby,  with  a  full-moon  face,  and  yellow  curls, 
which  were  so  much  trouble  to  take  care  of  that  they 
were  soon  cut  off,  after  he  had  set  the  example  of 
cutting  off  two  himself.  He  talked  as  though  his  mouth 
were  full  of  hot  mush.  If  sent  to  a  neighbor's  on  an 
errand,  he  usually  forgot  what  he  was  sent  for,  or  else 
explained  matters  in  such  a  way  that  he  brought  back 
the  wrong  thing.  His  mother  meant  to  be  kind;  her 
patience  was  splendid;  and  one's  heart  goes  out  to 
her  in  sympathy  when  we  think  of  her  faithful  efforts 
to  teach  the  lesser  catechism  to  this  baby  savage  who 
much  preferred  to  make  mud  pies. 
Little  Henry  Ward  had  a  third  mother  who  did  him 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 127 

much  gentle  benefit,  and  that  was  his  sister  Harriet, 
two  years  his  senior.  These  little  child-mothers  who 
take  care  of  the  younger  members  of  the  family  de 
serve  special  seats  in  paradise.  Harriet  taught  little 
Henry  Ward  to  talk  plainly,  to  add  four  and  four,  and 
to  look  solemn  when  he  did  not  feel  so — and  thus  es 
cape  the  strap  behind  the  kitchen  door.  His  bringing- 
up  was  of  the  uncaressing,  let-alone  kind. 
Lyman  Beecher  was  a  deal  better  than  his  religion ; 
for  his  religion,  like  that  of  most  people,  was  an  inher 
itance,  not  an  evolution.  Piety  settled  down  upon  the 
household  like  a  pall  every  Saturday  at  sundown ;  and 
the  lessons  taught  were  largely  from  the  Old  Testa 
ment  <f  4T 

These  big,  bustling,  strenuous  households  are  pretty 
good  life-drill  for  the  members.  The  children  are  taught 
self-reliance,  to  do  without  each  other,  to  do  for  others, 
and  the  older  members  educate  the  younger  ones.  It 
is  a  great  thing  to  leave  children  alone.  Henry  Ward 
Beecher  has  intimated  in  various  places  in  his  books 
how  the  whole  Beecher  brood  loved  their  father,  yet 
as  precaution  against  misunderstanding  they  made 
the  sudden  sneak  and  the  quick  side-step  whenever 
they  saw  him  coming. 

Village  life  with  a  fair  degree  of  prosperity,  but  not 
too  much,  is  an  education  in  itself.  The  knowledge 
gained  is  not  always  classic,  nor  even  polite,  but  it  is 
all  a  part  of  the  great  seething  game  of  life.  Henry 
Ward  Beecher  was  not  an  educated  man  in  the  usual 


i28 HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 

sense  of  the  word.  At  school  he  carved  his  desk,  made 
faces  at  the  girls,  and  kept  the  place  in  a  turmoil  gen 
erally  :  doing  the  wrong  thing,  just  like  many  another 
bumpkin.  At  home  he  carried  in  the  wood,  picked  up 
chips,  worked  in  the  garden  in  summer,  and  shoveled 
out  the  walks  in  winter.  He  knew  when  the  dish  water 
was  worth  saving  to  mix  up  with  meal  for  chickens, 
and  when  it  should  be  put  on  the  asparagus  bed  or  the 
rose  bushes.  He  could  make  a  lye-leach,  knew  that  it 
was  lucky  to  set  hens  on  thirteen  eggs,  realized  that 
hens'  eggs  hatched  in  three  weeks,  and  ducks'  in  four. 
He  knew  when  the  berries  ripened,  where  the  crows 
nested,  and  could  find  the  bee-trees  by  watching  the 
flight  of  the  bees  after  they  had  gotten  their  fill  on  the 
basswood  blossoms.  He  knew  all  the  birds  that  sang 
in  the  branches — could  tell  what  birds  migrated  and 
what  not — was  acquainted  with  the  flowers  and  weeds 
and  fungi — knew  where  the  rabbits  burrowed — could 
pick  the  milk-weed  that  would  cure  warts,  and  tell  the 
points  of  the  compass  by  examining  the  bark  of  the 
trees.  He  was  on  familiar  terms  with  all  the  ragamuf 
fins  in  the  village,  and  regarded  the  man  who  kept  the 
livery  stable  as  the  wisest  person  in  New  England, 
and  the  stage-driver  as  the  wittiest. 
Lyman  Beecher  was  a  graduate  of  Yale,  and  Henry 
Ward  would  have  been,  had  he  been  able  to  pass  the 
preparatory  examinations.  But  he  could  n't,  and  finally 
he  was  bundled  off  to  Amherst,  very  much  as  we  now 
send  boys  to  a  business  college  when  they  get  plucked 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 129 

at  the  high  school.  But  it  matters  little — give  the  boys 
time — some  of  them  ripen  slowly,  and  others  there  be 
who  know  more  at  sixteen  than  they  will  ever  know 
again,  like  street  gamins  with  the  wit  of  debauchees, 
rareripes  at  ten,  and  rotten  at  the  core.  "Delay  adol 
escence,"  wrote  Dr.  Charcot  to  an  anxious  mother — 
"delay  adolescence,  and  you  bank  energy  until  it  is 
needed.  If  your  boy  is  stupid  at  fourteen,  thank  God ! 
Dullness  is  a  fulcrum  and  your  son  is  getting  ready  to 
put  a  lever  under  the  world." 

At  Amherst,  Henry  Ward  stood  well  at  the  foot  of  his 
class.  He  read  everything  excepting  what  was  in  the 
curriculum,  and  never  allowed  his  studies  to  interfere 
with  his  college  course.  He  reveled  in  the  debating 
societies,  and  was  always  ready  to  thrash  out  any  sub 
ject  in  wordy  warfare  against  all  comers.  His  temper 
was  splendid,  his  good-nature  sublime.  If  an  opponent 
got  the  best  of  him  he  enjoyed  it  as  much  as  the  audi 
ence — he  could  wait  his  turn.  The  man  who  can  laugh 
at  himself,  and  who  is  not  anxious  to  have  the  last 
word,  is  right  in  the  suburbs  of  greatness. 
However,  the  Beechers  all  had  a  deal  of  positivism  in 
their  characters.  Thomas  K.  Beecher  of  Elmira,  in 
1856,  declared  he  would  not  shave  until  John  C.  Fremont 
was  elected  president.  It  is  needless  to  add  that  he 
wore  whiskers  the  rest  of  his  life. 

'When  Henry  Ward  was  nineteen  his  father  received 
a  call  to  become  President  of  Lane  Theological  Sem 
inary  at  Cincinnati,  and  Henry  Ward  accompanied 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 

him  as  assistant.  The  stalwart  old  father  had  now 
come  to  recognize  the  worth  of  his  son,  and  for  the 
first  time  parental  authority  was  waived  and  they  were 
companions.  They  were  very  much  alike — exuberant 
health,  energy  plus,  faith  and  hope  to  spare.  And 
Henry  Ward  now  saw  that  there  was  a  gentle,  tender 
and  yearning  side  to  his  father's  nature,  into  which 
the  world  only  caught  glimpses.  Lyman  Beecher  was 
not  free — he  was  bound  by  a  hagiograph  riveted  upon 
his  soul;  and  so  to  a  degree  his  whole  nature  was 
cramped  and  tortured  in  his  struggles  between  the 
"  natural  man ' '  and  the  "spiritual."  The  son  was  taught 
by  antithesis,  and  inwardly  vowed  he  would  be  free. 
The  one  word  that  looms  large  in  the  life  of  Beecher 
is  LIBERTY. 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER  died  aged  seventy- 
four,  having  preached  since  he  was  twenty- 
three.  During  that  time  he  was  pastor  of  three 
churches — two  years  at  Lawrenceburg,  Indiana,  six 
years  in  Indianapolis,  and  forty-three  years  in  Brook 
lyn.  It  was  in  1837  that  ^e  became  pastor  of  the  Con 
gregational  Church  at  Lawrenceburg.  This  town  was 
then  a  rival  of  Cincinnati.  It  had  six  churches — several 
more  than  were  absolutely  needed.  The  Baptists  were 
strong,  the  Presbyterians  were  strenuous,  the  Epis 
copalians  were  exclusive,  while  the  Congregationalists 
were  at  ebb-tide  through  the  rascality  of  a  preacher 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 131 

who  had  recently  decamped  and  thrown  a  blanket  of 
disgrace  over  the  whole  denomination  for  ten  miles 
up  the  creek.  Thus  were  things  when  Henry  Ward 
Beecher  assumed  his  first  charge.  The  membership  of 
the  church  was  made  up  of  nineteen  women  and  one 
man.  The  new  pastor  was  sexton  as  well  as  preacher 
— he  swept  out,  rang  the  bell,  lighted  the  candles  and 
locked  up  after  service. 

Beecher  remained  in  Lawrenceburg  two  years.  The 
membership  had  increased  to  a  hundred  and  six  men 
and  seventy  women.  I  suppose  it  will  not  be  denied  as 
an  actual  fact  that  women  bolster  the  steeples  so  that 
they  stay  on  the  churches.  From  the  time  women  held 
the  rope  and  let  St.  Paul  down  in  safety  from  the  wall 
in  a  basket,  women  have  maintained  the  faith.  But 
Beecher  was  a  man's  preacher  from  first  to  last.  He 
was  a  bold,  manly  man,  making  his  appeal  to  men. 
QTwo  years  at  Lawrenceburg  and  he  moved  to  Indi 
anapolis,  the  capital  of  the  state,  his  reputation  hav 
ing  been  carried  thither  by  the  member  from  Posey 
County,  who  incautiously  boasted  that  his  deestrick 
had  the  most  powerful  preacher  of  any  town  on  the 
Ohio  River  #*  & 

At  Indianapolis,  Beecher  was  a  success  at  once.  He 
entered  into  the  affairs  of  the  people  with  an  ease  and 
a  good  nature  that  won  the  hearts  of  this  semi-pioneer 
population.  His  "Lectures  to  Young  Men,"  delivered 
Sunday  evenings  to  packed  houses,  still  have  a  sale. 
This  bringing  religion  down  from  the  lofty  heights  of 


132 HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 

theology  and  making  it  a  matter  of  every-day  life,  was 
eminently  Beecheresque.  And  the  reason  it  was  a  suc 
cess  was  because  it  fitted  the  needs  of  the  people. 
Beecher  expressed  what  the  people  were  thinking. 
Mankind  clings  to  the  creed ;  we  will  not  burn  our 
bridges — we  want  the  religion  of  our  mothers,  yet  we 
crave  the  simple  common  sense  we  can  comprehend 
as  well  as  the  superstition  we  can't.  Beecher's  task 
was  to  rationalize  orthodoxy  so  as  to  make  it  palatable 
to  thinking  minds.  "  I  can't  ride  two  horses  at  one 
time,"  once  said  Robert  Ingersoll  to  Beecher,  "but 
possibly  I  '11  be  able  to  yet,  for  to-morrow  I  am  going 
to  hear  you  preach."  Then  it  was  that  Beecher  offered 
to  write  Ingersoll's  epitaph,  which  he  proceeded  to  do 
by  scribbling  two  words  on  the  back  of  an  envelope, 
thus:  ROBERT  BURNS. 

But  these  men  understood  and  had  a  thorough  respect 
for  each  other.  Once  at  a  mass  meeting  at  Cooper 
Union,  Beecher  introduced  Ingersoll  as  the  "  first,  fore 
most,  and  most  gifted  of  all  living  orators." 
And  Ingersoll,  not  to  be  outdone,  referred  in  his  speech 
to  Beecher  as  the  "one  orthodox  clergyman  in  the 
world  who  has  eliminated  hell  from  his  creed  and  put 
the  devil  out  of  church,  and  still  stands  in  his  pulpit." 
CJSix  years  at  Indianapolis  put  Beecher  in  command 
of  his  armament.  And  Brooklyn,  seeking  a  man  of 
power,  called  him  thither.  His  first  sermon  in  Ply 
mouth  Church  outlined  his  course — and  the  principles 
then  laid  down  he  was  to  preach  for  fifty  years.  The 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 133 

love  of  God ;  the  life  of  Christ,  not  as  a  sacrifice,  but 
as  an  example — our  Elder  Brother;  and  Liberty — 
liberty  to  think,  to  express,  to  act,  to  become. 
It  would  have  been  worth  going  miles  to  see  this  man 
as  he  appeared  at  Plymouth  Church  those  first  years 
of  his  ministry.  Such  a  specimen  of  mental,  spiritual 
and  physical  manhood  Nature  produces  only  once  in 
a  century.  Imagine  a  man  of  thirty-five,  when  man 
hood  has  not  yet  left  youth  behind,  height  five  feet  ten, 
weight  one  hundred  and  eighty,  a  body  like  that  of  a 
Greek  god,  and  a  mind  poised,  sure,  serene,  with  a  fund 
of  good  nature  that  could  not  be  overdrawn ;  a  face 
cleanly  shaven ;  a  wealth  of  blonde  hair  falling  to  his 
broad  shoulders  ;  eyes  of  infinite  blue, — eyes  like  the 
eyes  of  Christ  when  He  gazed  upon  the  penitent  thief 
on  the  cross,  or  eyes  that  flash  fire,  changing  their 
color  with  the  mood  of  the  man — a  radiant,  happy  man, 
the  cheeriest,  sunniest  nature  that  ever  dwelt  in  human 
body,  with  a  sympathy  that  went  out  to  everybody 
and  everything — children,  animals,  the  old,  the  feeble, 
the  fallen — a  man  too  big  to  be  jealous,  too  noble  to 
quibble,  a  man  so  manly  that  he  would  accept  guilt 
rather  than  impute  it  to  another.  If  he  had  been  pos 
sessed  of  less  love  he  would  have  been  a  stronger  man. 
The  generous  nature  lies  open  and  unprotected — 
through  its  guilelessness  it  allows  concrete  rascality 
to  come  close  enough  to  strike  it.  "  One  reason  why 
Beecher  had  so  many  enemies  was  because  he  be 
stowed  so  many  benefits,"  said  Rufus  Choate. 


134 HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 

Talmage  did  not  discover  himself  until  he  was  forty- 
six;  Beecher  was  Beecher  at  thirty-five.  He  was  as 
great  then  as  he  ever  was — it  was  too  much  to  ask 
that  he  should  evolve  into  something  more — Nature 
has  to  distribute  her  gifts.  Had  Beecher  grown  after 
his  thirty-fifth  year,  as  he  grew  from  twenty-five  to 
thirty-five,  he  would  have  been  a  Colossus  that  would 
have  disturbed  the  equilibrium  of  the  thinking  world, 
and  created  revolution  instead  of  evolution.  The  oppo 
sition  toward  great  men  is  right  and  natural — it  is  a 
part  of  Nature's  plan  to  hold  the  balance  true,  "lest 
ye  become  as  gods !  " 


I  TRAVELED  with  Major  James  B.  Pond  one  lec 
ture  season,  and  during  that  time  heard  only  two 
themes  discussed,  John  Brown  and  Henry  Ward 
Beecher.  These  were  his  gods.  Pond  fought  with  John 
Brown  in  Kansas,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  and  it  was 
only  through  an  accident  that  he  was  not  with  Brown 
at  Harper's  Ferry,  in  which  case  his  soul  would  have 
gone  marching  on  with  that  of  Old  John  Brown.  From 
1860  to  1866  Pond  belonged  to  the  army,  and  was  sta 
tioned  in  western  Missouri,  where  there  was  no  com 
missariat,  where  they  took  no  prisoners,  and  where 
men  lived,  like  Jesse  James,  who  never  knew  the  war 
was  over.  Pond  had  so  many  notches  cut  on  the  butt 
of  his  pistol  that  he  had  ceased  to  count  them.  He  was 
big,  brusque,  quibbling,  insulting,  dictatorial,  pains- 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 135 

taking,  considerate  and  kind.  He  was  the  most  exas 
perating  and  lovable  man  I  ever  knew.  He  left  a  trail 
of  enemies  wherever  he  traveled,  and  the  irony  of  fate 
is  shown  in  that  he  was  allowed  to  die  peacefully  in 
his  bed  #  4f 

I  cut  my  relationship  with  him  because  I  did  not  care 
to  be  pained  by  seeing  his  form  dangling  from  the 
cross-beam  of  a  telegraph  pole.  When  I  lectured  at 
Washington  a  policeman  appeared  at  the  box-office 
and  demanded  the  amusement  license  fee  of  five  dol 
lars.  "Your  authority?"  roared  Pond.  And  the  police 
man  not  being  able  to  explain,  Pond  kicked  him  down 
the  stairway,  and  kept  his  club  as  a  souvenir.  We  got 
out  on  the  midnight  train  before  warrants  could  be 
served  ff  & 

He  would  often  push  me  into  the  first  carriage  when 
we  arrived  at  a  town,  and  sometimes  the  driver  would 
say,  "This  is  a  private  carriage,"  or,  "This  rig  is  en 
gaged,"  and  Pond  would  reply,  "What 's  that  to  me 
— drive  us  to  the  hotel — you  evidently  don't  know 
whom  you  are  talking  to !  "  And  so  imperious  was  his 
manner  that  his  orders  were  usually  obeyed.  Arriving 
at  the  hotel,  he  would  hand  out  double  fare.  It  was  his 
rule  to  pay  too  much  or  too  little.  Yet  as  a  manager  he 
was  perfection — he  knew  the  trains  to  a  minute,  and 
always  knew,  too,  what  to  do  if  we  missed  the  first 
train,  or  if  the  train  was  late.  At  the  hall  he  saw  that 
every  detail  was  provided  for.  If  the  place  was  too 
hot,  or  too  cold,  somebody  got  thoroughly  damned.  If 


i36 HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 

the  ventilation  was  bad,  and  he  could  not  get  the  win 
dows  open,  he  would  break  them  out.  If  you  ques 
tioned  his  balance  sheet  he  would  the  next  day  flash 
up  an  expense  account  that  looked  like  a  plumber's 
bill  and  give  you  fifty  cents  as  your  share  of  the  spoils. 
At  hotels  he  always  got  a  room  with  two  beds,  if  pos 
sible.  I  was  his  prisoner — he  was  despotically  kind — 
he  regulated  my  hours  of  sleep,  my  meals,  my  exer 
cise.  He  would  throw  intruding  visitors  down  stairs 
as  average  men  shoo  chickens  or  scare  cats.  He  was  a 
bundle  of  profanity  and  unrest  until  after  the  lecture. 
Then  we  would  go  to  our  room,  and  he  would  talk  like 
a  windmill.  He  would  crawl  into  his  bed  and  I  into 
mine,  and  then  he  would  continue  telling  Beecher 
stories  half  the  night,  comparing  me  with  Beecher  to 
my  great  disadvantage.  A  dozen  times  I  have  heard 
him  tell  how  Beecher  would  say,  "Pond,  never  con 
sult  me  about  plans  or  explain  details — if  you  do,  our 
friendship  ceases."  Beecher  was  glad  to  leave  every 
detail  of  travel  to  Pond,  and  Pond  delighted  in  assum 
ing  sole  charge.  Beecher  never  audited  an  account — he 
just  took  what  Pond  gave  him  and  said  nothing.  In 
this  Beecher  was  very  wise — he  managed  Pond  and 
Pond  never  knew  it.  Pond  had  a  pride  in  paying 
Beecher  as  much  as  possible,  and  found  gratification 
in  giving  the  money  to  Beecher  instead  of  keeping  it. 
He  was  immensely  proud  of  his  charge  and  grew  to 
have  an  idolatrous  regard  for  Beecher.  Pond's  brusque 
ways  amused  Beecher,  and  the  Osawatomie  experi- 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 137 

ence  made  him  a  sort  of  hero  in  Beecher's  eyes. 
Beecher  took  Pond  at  his  true  value,  regarded  his 
wrath  as  a  child's  tantrum,  and  let  him  do  most  of  the 
talking  as  well  as  the  business.  And  Beecher's  great, 
welling  heart  touched  a  side  of  Pond's  nature  that 
few  knew  existed  at  all — a  side  that  he  masked  with 
harshness ;  for,  in  spite  of  his  perversity,  Pond  had  his 
virtues — he  was  simple  as  a  child,  and  so  ingenuous 
that  deception  with  him  was  impossible.  He  could  not 
tell  a  lie  so  you  would  not  know  it. 
He  served  Beecher  with  a  dog-like  loyalty,  and  an 
honesty  beyond  suspicion.  They  were  associated 
fourteen  years,  traveled  together  over  three  hundred 
thousand  miles,  and  Pond  paid  to  Beecher  two  hun 
dred  and  forty  thousand  dollars. 


BEECHER  and  Tilton  became  acquainted  about 
the  year  1860.  Beecher  was  at  that  time  forty- 
seven  years  old ;  Tilton  was  twenty- five.  The 
influence  of  the  older  man  over  the  younger  was  very 
marked.  Tilton  became  one  of  the  most  zealous  work 
ers  in  Plymouth  Church :  he  attended  every  service, 
took  part  in  the  Wednesday  evening  prayer  meeting, 
helped  take  up  the  collection,  and  was  a  constant  re 
cruiting  force.  Tilton  was  a  reporter,  and  later  an  edi 
torial  writer  on  different  New  York  and  Brooklyn  dai 
lies.  Beecher's  Sunday  sermon  supplied  Tilton  the 
cue  for  his  next  day's  leader.  And  be  it  said  to  his 


138 HENRY   WARD    BEECHER 

honor,  he  usually  gave  due  credit,  and  in  various  ways 
helped  the  cause  of  Plymouth  Church  by  booming  the 
reputation  of  its  pastor. 

Tilton  was  possessed  of  a  deal  of  intellectual  nervous 
force.  His  mind  was  receptive,  active,  versatile.  His 
all  'round  newspaper  experience  had  given  him  an  ed 
ucation,  and  he  could  express  himself  acceptably  on 
any  theme.  He  wrote  children's  stories,  threw  off  po 
etry  in  idle  hours,  penned  essays,  skimmed  the  surface 
of  philosophy,  and  dived  occasionally  into  theology. 
But  his  theology  and  his  philosophy  were  strictly  the 
goods  put  out  by  Beecher,  distilled  through  the  Tilton 
cosmos.  He  occasionally  made  addresses  at  social 
gatherings,  and  evolved  into  an  orator  whose  reputa 
tion  extended  to  Staten  Island. 

Beecher's  big,  boyish  heart  went  out  to  this  bright 
and  intelligent  young  man — they  were  much  in  each 
other's  company.  People  said  they  looked  alike;  al 
though  one  was  tall  and  slender  and  the  other  was  in 
clined  to  be  stout.  Beecher  wore  his  hair  long,  and 
now  Tilton  wore  his  long,  too.  Beecher  affected  a 
wide-brimmed  slouch  hat ;  Tilton  wore  one  of  similar 
style,  with  brim  a  trifle  wider.  Beecher  wore  a  large, 
blue  cloak ;  Tilton  wrapped  himself  'round  with  a  cloak 
one  shade  more  ultramarine  than  Beecher's. 
Tilton's  wife  was  very  much  like  Tilton — both  were 
intellectual,  nervous,  artistic.  They  were  so  much 
alike  that  they  give  us  a  hint  of  what  a  hell  this  world 
'would  be  if  all  mankind  were  made  in  one  mold.  But 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 139 

there  was  this  difference  between  them  :  Mrs.  Tilton 
was  proud,  while  Tilton  was  vain.  They  were  only 
civil  toward  each  other  because  they  had  vowed  they 
would  be.  They  did  not  throw  crockery,  because  to  do 
so  would  have  been  bad  form. 

Beecher  was  a  great  joker — hilarious,  laughing,  and 
both  witty  and  humorous.  I  was  going  to  say  he  was 
wise,  but  that  is  n't  the  word.  Tilton  lacked  wit — he 
never  bubbled  excepting  as  a  matter  of  duty.  Both  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Tilton  greatly  enjoyed  the  society  of  Beecher, 
for,  besides  being  a  great  intellectual  force,  his  pres 
ence  was  an  antiseptic  'gainst  jaundice  and  introspec 
tion.  And  Beecher  loved  them  both,  because  they  loved 
him,  and  because  he  loved  everybody.  They  supplied 
him  a  foil  for  his  wit,  a  receptacle  for  his  overflow  of 
spirit,  a  flint  on  which  to  strike  his  steel.  Mrs.  Tilton 
admired  Beecher  a  little  more  than  her  husband  did — 
she  was  a  woman.  Tilton  was  glad  that  his  wife  liked 
Beecher — it  brought  Beecher  to  his  house ;  &  if  Beecher 
admired  Tilton's  wife — why,  was  not  this  a  proof  that 
Tilton  and  Beecher  were  alike  ?  I  guess  so.  Mrs.  Tilton 
was  musical,  artistic,  keen  of  brain,  emotional,  with  all 
a  fine-fibred  woman's  longings,  hopes  and  ideals. 
So  matters  went  drifting  on  the  tide,  and  the  years 
went  by  as  the  years  will. 

Mrs.  Tilton  became  a  semi-invalid,  the  kind  that  doc 
tors  now  treat  with  hypophosphites,  beef-iron-and- 
wine,  cod-liver  oil,  and  massage  by  the  right  attend 
ant.  They  call  it  congenital  anaemia — a  scarcity  of  the 


140 HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 

red  corpuscle.  Q  Some  doctors  there  be  who  do  not 
yet  know  that  the  emotions  control  the  secretions, 
and  a  perfect  circulation  is  a  matter  of  mind.  Anyway, 
what  can  the  poor  Galenite  do  in  a  case  like  this — his 
pills  are  powerless,  his  potions  inane !  Tilton  knew 
that  his  wife  loved  Beecher,  and  he  also  fully  realized 
that  in  this  she  was  only  carrying  out  a  little  of  the 
doctrine  of  freedom  that  he  taught,  and  that  he  claimed 
for  himself.  For  a  time  Tilton  was  beautifully  magnan 
imous.  Occasionally  Mrs.  Tilton  had  spells  of  complete 
prostration,  when  she  thought  she  was  going  to  die. 
At  such  times  her  husband  would  send  for  Beecher  to 
come  and  administer  extreme  unction. 
Instead  of  dying,  the  woman  would  get  well. 
After  one  such  attack,  Tilton  taunted  his  wife  with 
her  quick  recovery.  It  was  a  taunt  that  pulled  tight  on 
the  corners  of  his  mouth ;  it  was  lacking  in  playfulness. 
Beecher  was  present  at  the  bedside  of  the  propped-up 
invalid.  They  turned  on  Tilton,  did  these  two,  and 
flayed  him  with  their  agile  wit  and  ready  tongues. 
Tilton  protested  they  were  wrong — he  was  not  jealous 
— the  idea !  jf  & 

But  that  afternoon  he  had  his  hair  cut,  and  he  discarded 
the  slouch  hat  for  one  with  a  stiff  brim. 
It  took  six  months  for  his  hair  to  grow  to  a  length 
sufficient  to  indicate  genius. 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER  141 

BEECHER'S  great  heart  was  wrung  and  stung 
by  the  tangle  of  events  in  which  he  finally  found 
himself  plunged.  That  his  love  for  Mrs.  Tilton 
was  great  there  is  no  doubt,  and  for  the  wife  with 
whom  he  had  lived  for  over  a  score  of  years  he  had  a 
profound  pity  and  regard.  She  had  not  grown  with  him. 
Had  she  remained  in  Lawrenceburg,  Indiana,  and 
married  a  well-to-do  grocer,  all  for  her  would  have 
been  well.  Beecher  belonged  to  the  world,  and  this  his 
wife  never  knew :  she  thought  she  owned  him.  To  in 
terest  her  and  to  make  her  shine  before  the  world, 
certain  literary  productions  were  put  out  with  her 
name  as  author,  on  request  of  Robert  Bonner,  but  all 
this  was  a  pathetic  attempt  by  her  husband  to  conceal 
the  truth  of  her  mediocrity.  She  spied  upon  him, 
watched  his  mail,  turned  his  pockets,  and  did  all  the 
things  no  wife  should  do,  lest  perchance  she  be  punished 
by  finding  her  suspicions  true.  Wives  and  husbands 
must  live  by  faith.  The  wife  who  is  miserable  until 
she  makes  her  husband  "confess  all,"  is  never  happy 
afterwards.  Beecher  could  not  pour  out  his  soul  to  his 
wife — he  had  to  watch  her  mood  and  dole  out  to  her 
the  platitudes  she  could  digest — never  with  her  did  he 
reach  abandon.  But  the  wife  strove  to  do  her  duty — 
she  was  a  good  housekeeper,  economical  and  industri 
ous,  and  her  very  virtues  proved  a  source  of  exasper 
ation  to  her  husband — he  could  not  hate  her. 
It  was  Mrs.  Beecher  who  first  discovered  the  rela 
tionship  existing  between  her  husband  and  Mrs.  Tilton. 


142 HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 

She  accused  her  husband,  and  he  made  no  denial — 
he  offered  her  her  liberty.  But  this  she  did  not  want. 
Beecher  promised  to  break  with  Mrs.  Tilton.  They 
parted — parted  forever  in  sweet  sorrow. 
And  the  next  week  they  met  again. 
The  greater  the  man  before  the  public,  the  more  he 
outpours  himself,  the  more  his  need  for  mothering  in 
the  quiet  of  his  home.  All  things  are  equalized,  and 
with  the  strength  of  the  sublime  spiritual  nature  goes 
the  weakness  of  a  child.  Beecher  was  an  undeveloped 
boy  to  the  day  of  his  death. 

Beecher  at  one  time  had  a  great  desire  to  stand  square 
before  the  world.  Major  Pond,  on  Beecher's  request, 
went  to  Mrs.  Beecher  and  begged  her  to  sue  for  a 
divorce.  At  the  same  time  Tilton  was  asked  to  secure 
a  divorce  from  his  wife.  "When  all  parties  were  free, 
Beecher  would  marry  Mrs.  Tilton  and  face  the  world 
an  honest  man — nothing  to  hide — right  out  under  the 
clear  blue  sky,  blown  upon  by  the  free  winds  of  heaven  ! 
Q  This  was  his  heart's  desire. 

But  all  negotiations  failed.  Mrs.  Beecher  would  not 
give  up  her  husband,  and  Tilton  was  too  intent  on  re 
venge — and  cash — to  even  consider  the  matter.  Then 
came  the  crash. 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 143 

TILTON  sued  Beecher  for  one  hundred  thousand 
dollars  damages  for  alienating  his  wife's  affec 
tion.  It  took  five  months  to  try  the  case.  The 
best  legal  talent  in  the  land  was  engaged.  The  jury 
disagreed  and  the  case  was  not  tried  again. 
Had  Mrs.  Beecher  applied  for  a  divorce  on  statutory 
grounds,  no  court  would  have  denied  her  prayer.  In 
actions  for  divorce,  guilt  does  not  have  to  be  proved — 
it  is  assumed.  But  when  one  man  sues  another  for 
money  damages,  the  rulings  are  drawn  finer  and  mat 
ters  must  be  proved.  That  is  where  Tilton  failed  in 
his  law-suit. 

At  the  trial,  Beecher  perjured  himself  like  a  gentleman 
to  protect  Mrs.  Tilton ;  Mrs.  Tilton  waived  the  truth 
for  Beecher's  benefit;  and  Mrs.  Beecher  swore  black 
was  white  because  she  did  not  want  to  lose  her  hus 
band.  Such  a  precious  trinity  of  prevaricators  is  very 
seldom  seen  in  a  court-room,  a  place  where  liars  much 
do  congregate.  Judge  and  jury  knew  they  lied  and  re 
spected  them  the  more,  for  down  in  the  hearts  of  all 
men  is  a  feeling  that  the  love  affairs  of  a  man  and 
woman  are  sacred  themes,  and  a  bulwark  of  lies  to 
protect  the  holy  of  holies  is  ever  justifiable. 
Tilton  was  the  one  person  who  told  the  truth,  and  he 
was  universally  execrated  for  it.  Love  does  not  leave 
a  person  without  reason.  And  there  is  something  in 
the  thought  of  money  as  payment  to  a  man  for  a 
woman's  love  that  is  against  nature. 
Tilton  lost  the  woman's  love,  and  he  would  balm  his 


i44 HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 

lacerated  heart  with  lucre  !  Money  ?  God  help  us — a 
man  should  earn  money.  "We  sometimes  hear  of  men 
who  subsist  on  'women's  shame,  but  what  shall  we 
say  of  a  man  who  would  turn  parasite  and  live  in  lux 
ury  on  a  woman's  love — and  this  woman  by  him  now 
spurned  and  scorned !  The  faults  and  frailties  of  men 
and  women  caught  in  the  swirl  of  circumstances  are 
not  without  excuse,  but  the  cold  plottings  to  punish 
them  and  the  desire  to  thrive  by  their  faults,  are  hid 
eous  jf  #- 

The  worst  about  a  double  life  is  not  its  immorality — it 
is  that  the  relationship  makes  a  man  a  liar.  The  uni 
verse  is  not  planned  for  duplicity — all  the  energy  we 
have  is  needed  in  our  business,  and  he  who  starts  out 
on  the  pathway  of  untruth,  finds  himself  treading  upon 
brambles  and  nettles  which  close  behind  him  and  make 
return  impossible.  The  further  he  goes  the  worse  the 
jungle  of  poison-oak  and  ivy,  which  at  last  circle  him 
round  in  strangling  embrace.  He  who  escapes  the 
clutch  of  a  life  of  falsehood  is  as  one  in  a  million. 
Victor  Hugo  has  pictured  the  situation  when  he  tells 
of  the  man  whose  feet  are  caught  in  the  bed  of  bird 
lime.  He  attempts  to  jump  out,  but  only  sinks  deeper 
— he  flounders,  calls  for  help,  and  puts  forth  all  his 
strength.  He  is  up  to  his  knees — to  his  hips — his  waist 
— his  neck,  and  at  last  only  hands  are  seen  reaching 
up  in  mute  appeal  to  heaven.  But  the  heavens  are  as 
brass,  and  soon  where  there  was  once  a  man  is  only 
the  dumb  indifference  of  nature. 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 145 

The  only  safe  course  is  the  open  road  of  truth.  Lies 
once  begun,  pile  up ;  and  lies  require  lies  to  bolster 
them  *r  4T 

Mrs.  Tilton  had  made  a  written  confession  to  her  hus 
band,  but  this  she  repudiated  in  court,  declaring  it  was 
given  "  in  terrorem."   Now  she  had  only  words  of 
praise  and  vindication  for  Beecher. 
Mrs.  Beecher  sat  by  her  husband's  side  all  through  the 
long  trial.  For  a  man  to  leave  the  woman  with  whom 
he  has  lived  a  lifetime,  and  who  is  the  mother  of  his 
children,  is  out  of  the  question.  What  if  she  does  lack 
intellect  and  spirituality !  He  has  endured  her ;  aye ! 
he  has  even  been  happy  with  her  at  times — the  rela 
tionship  has  been  endurable — 't  were  imbecility,  and 
death  for  both,  to  break  it. 
Beecher  and  his  wife  would  stand  together. 
Mrs.  Tilton's  lips  had  been  sanctified  by  love,  and 
were  sealed,  though  her  heart  did  break. 
The  jury  stood  nine  for  Beecher  and  three  against. 
Major  Pond,  the  astute,  construed  this  into  a  vindica 
tion — Beecher  was  not  guilty ! 

The  first  lecture  after  the  trial  was  given  at  Alexan 
dria  Bay.  Pond  had  sold  out  for  five  hundred  dollars. 
Beecher  said  it  was  rank  robbery — no  one  would  be 
there.  The  lecture  was  to  be  in  the  grove  at  three  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon.  In  the  forenoon,  boats  were  seen 
coming  from  east  and  west  and  north — excursion  boats 
laden  with  pilgrims ;  sail-boats,  row-boats,  skiffs,  and 
even  birch-bark  canoes  bearing  red-men.  The  people 


H6 HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 

came  also  in  carts  and  wagons,  and  on  horseback. 
An  audience  of  five  thousand  confronted  the  lecturer. 
Q  The  man  who  had  planned  the  affair  had  banked  on 
his  knowledge  of  humanity — the  people  wanted  to  see 
and  hear  the  individual  who  had  been  whipped  naked 
at  the  cart's  tail,  and  who  still  lived  to  face  the  world 
smilingly,  bravely,  undauntedly. 

Major  Pond  was  paid  the  $500.00  as  agreed.  The  en 
terprise  had  netted  its  manager  over  a  thousand  dol 
lars — he  was  a  rich  man  anyway — things  had  turned 
out  as  he  had  prophesied,  and  in  the  exuberance  of 
his  success  he  that  night  handed  Mr.  Beecher  a  check 
for  $250.00,  saying,  "  This  is  for  you  with  my  love — it 
is  outside  of  any  arrangement  made  with  Major 
Pond."  After  they  had  retired  to  their  rooms,  Beecher 
handed  the  check  to  Pond,  and  said,  as  his  blue  eyes 
filled  with  tears,  "  Major,  you  know  what  to  do  with 
this  ?  "  And  Major  Pond  said,  "  Yes." 
Tilton  went  to  Europe,  leaving  his  family  behind.  But 
Major  Pond  made  it  his  business  to  see  that  Mrs.  Til- 
ton  wanted  for  nothing  that  money  could  buy.  Beecher 
never  saw  Mrs.  Tilton,  to  converse  with  her,  again. 
She  outlived  him  a  dozen  years.  On  her  death-bed  she 
confessed  to  her  sister  that  her  denials  as  to  her  rela 
tions  with  Beecher  were  untrue.  "  He  loved  me,"  she 
said,  "he  loved  me,  and  I  would  have  been  less  than 
•woman  had  I  not  loved  him.  This  love  will  be  my 
passport  to  paradise — God  understands."  And  so  she 
died  &  jf 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 147 

TILTON  was  by  nature  an  unsuccessful  man.  He 
was  proudly  aristocratic,  lordly,  dignified,  jeal 
ous,  mentally  wiggling  and  spiritually  jiggling. 
His  career  was  like  that  of  a  race-horse  which  makes 
a  record  faster  than  he  can  ever  attain  again,  and  thus 
is  forever  barred  from  all  slow-paced  competitions. 
Tilton  aspired  to  be  a  novelist,  an  essayist,  a  poet,  an 
orator.  His  performances  in  each  of  these  lines,  un 
fortunately,  were  not  bad  enough  to  damn  him  ;  and  his 
work  done  in  fair  weather  was  so  much  better  than  he 
could  do  in  foul  that  he  was  caught  by  the  undertow. 
And  as  for  doing  what  Adirondack  Murray  did,  get 
right  down  to  hard-pan  and  wash  dishes  in  a  dish-pan 
— he  could  n't  do  it.  Like  an  Indian,  he  would  starve 
before  he  would  work — and  he  came  near  it,  gaining 
a  garret  living,  teaching  languages  and  doing  hack 
literary  work  in  Paris,  where  he  went  to  escape  the 
accumulation  of  contempt  that  came  his  way  just 
after  the  great  Beecher  trial. 

Before  this,  Tilton  started  out  to  star  the  country  as  a 
lecturer.  He  evidently  thought  he  could  climb  to  pop 
ularity  over  the  wreck  of  Henry  Ward  Beecher.  Even 
had  he  wrecked  Beecher  completely,  it  is  very  likely 
he  would  have  gone  down  in  the  swirl,  and  become 
literary  flotsam  and  jetsam  just  the  same. 
Tilton  had  failed  to  down  his  man,  and  men  who  are 
failures  do  not  draw  on  the  lecture  platform.  The  au 
ditor  has  failure  enough  at  home,  God  knows!  and 
what  he  wants  when  he  lays  down  good  money  for  a 


148 HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 

lecture  ticket  is  to  annex  himself  to  a  success.  QTilton's 
lecture  was  called  "The  Problem  of  Life"— a  title 
which  had  the  advantage  of  allowing  the  speaker  to 
say  anything  he  wished  to  say  on  any  subject  and 
still  not  violate  the  unities.  I  heard  Tilton  give  this 
lecture  twice,  and  it  was  given  from  start  to  finish 
in  exactly  the  same  way.  It  contained  much  learning 
— had  flights  of  eloquence,  bursts  of  bathos,  puffs  of 
pathos,  but  not  a  smile  in  the  whole  hour  and  a  half. 
It  was  faultily  faultless,  icily  regular,  splendidly  null, 
dead  perfection — no  more.  It  was  so  perfect  that  some 
people  thought  it  great.  The  man  was  an  actor  and  had 
what  is  called  platform  presence.  He  would  walk  on  the 
stage,  carrying  his  big  blue  cloak  over  his  arm,  his 
slouch  hat  in  his  hand — for  he  clung  to  these  Beecher 
properties  to  the  last,  even  claiming  that  Beecher  was 
encroaching  on  his  preserve  in  wearing  them. 
He  would  bow  as  stiffly  and  solemnly  as  a  new-made 
judge.  Then  he  would  toss  the  cloak  on  a  convenient 
sofa,  place  the  big  hat  on  top  of  it,  and  come  down 
to  the  footlights,  deliberately  removing  his  yellow  kid 
gloves.  There  was  no  introduction — he  was  the  whole 
show  and  brooked  no  competition.  He  would  begin 
talking  as  he  removed  the  gloves ;  he  would  get  one 
glove  off  and  hold  it  in  the  other  hand,  seemingly  lost 
in  his  speech.  From  time  to  time  he  would  emphasize 
his  remarks  by  beating  the  palm  of  his  gloved  hand 
with  the  loose  glove.  By  the  time  the  lecture  was  half 
over,  both  gloves  would  be  lying  on  the  table ;  unlike 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER J49 

the  performance  of  Sir  Edwin  Arnold,  who,  during  his 
readings,  always  wore  one  white  kid  glove  and  carried 
its  mate  in  the  gloved  hand  from  beginning  to  end. 
Q  Theodore  Tilton's  lectures  were  consummate  art, 
done  by  a  handsome,  graceful  and  cultured  man  in  a 
red  necktie,  but  they  did  not  carry  enough  caloric  to 
make  them  go.  They  seemed  to  lack  vibrations.  Art 
without  a  message  is  for  the  people  who  love  art  for 
art's  sake,  and  God  does  not  care  much  for  these, 
otherwise  He  would  not  have  made  so  few  of  them. 


AS  a  sample  of  Beecher's  eloquence,  this  extract 
from  his  sermon  on  the  death  of  Lincoln  reveals 
his  quality  : 

The  joy  of  the  Nation  came  upon  us  suddenly,  with 
such  a  surge  as  no  words  can  describe.  Men  laughed, 
embraced  one  another,  sang  and  prayed,  and  many 
could  only  weep  for  gladness. 

In  one  short  hour,  joy  had  no  pulse.  The  sorrow  was 
so  terrible  that  it  stunned  sensibility.  The  first  feeling 
was  the  least,  and  men  wanted  to  get  strength  to  feel. 
Other  griefs  belong  always  to  some  one  in  chief,  but 
this  belonged  to  all.  Men  walked  for  hours  as  though 
a  corpse  lay  in  their  houses.  The  city  forgot  to  roar. 
Never  did  so  many  hearts  in  so  brief  a  time  touch  two 
such  boundless  feelings.  It  was  the  uttermost  of  joy 
and  the  uttermost  of  sorrow — noon  and  midnight 
without  a  space  between.  We  should  not  mourn,  how 
ever,  because  the  departure  of  the  President  was  so 
sudden.  When  one  is  prepared  to  die,  the  suddenness 
of  death  is  a  blessing.  They  that  are  taken  awake  and 


iso HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 

watching,  as  the  bridegroom  dressed  for  the  wedding, 
and  not  those  who  die  in  pain  and  stupor,  are  blessed. 
Neither  should  we  mourn  the  manner  of  his  death. 
The  soldier  prays  that  he  may  die  by  the  shot  of  the 
enemy  in  the  hour  of  victory,  and  it  was  meet  that  he 
should  be  joined  in  a  common  experience  in  death 
with  the  brave  men  to  whom  he  had  been  joined  in  all 
his  sympathy  and  life. 

This  blow  was  but  the  expiring  rebellion.  Epitomized 
in  this  foul  act  we  find  the  whole  nature  and  disposi 
tion  of  slavery.  It  is  fit  that  its  expiring  blow  should 
be  such  as  to  take  away  from  men  the  last  forbear 
ance,  the  last  pity,  and  fire  the  soul  with  invincible 
determination  that  the  breeding-system  of  such  mis 
chiefs  and  monsters  shall  be  forever  and  utterly  de 
stroyed.  "We  needed  not  that  he  should  put  on  paper 
that  he  believed  in  slavery,  who,  with  treason,  with 
murder,  with  cruelty  infernal,  hovered  round  that 
majestic  man  to  destroy  his  life.  He  was  himself  the 
life-long  sting  with  which  Slavery  struck  at  Liberty, 
and  he  carried  the  poison  that  belonged  to  slavery ; 
and  as  long  as  this  Nation  lasts  it  will  never  be  for 
gotten  that  we  have  had  one  martyr-president — never, 
never  while  time  lasts,  while  heaven  lasts,  while  hell 
rocks  and  groans,  will  it  be  forgotten  that  slavery  by 
its  minions  slew  him,  and  in  slaying  him  made  mani 
fest  its  whole  nature  and  tendency.  This  blow  was 
aimed  at  the  life  of  the  Government.  Some  murders 
there  have  been  that  admitted  shades  of  palliation,  but 
not  such  a  one  as  this — without  provocation,  without 
reason,  without  temptation — sprung  from  the  fury  of 
a  heart  cankered  to  all  that  is  pure  and  just. 
The  blow  has  failed  of  its  object.  The  Government 
stands  more  solid  to-day  than  any  pyramid  of  Egypt. 
Men  love  liberty  and  hate  slavery  to-day  more  than 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 151 

ever  before.  How  naturally,  how  easily,  the  Govern 
ment  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  new  President,  and 
I  avow  my  belief  that  he  will  be  found  a  man  true  to 
every  instinct  of  liberty,  true  to  the  whole  trust  that 
is  imposed  in  him,  vigilant  of  the  Constitution,  careful 
of  the  laws,  wise  for  liberty  :  in  that  he  himself  for  his 
life  long,  has  known  what  it  is  to  suffer  from  the  stings 
of  slavery,  and  to  prize  liberty  from  the  bitter  experi 
ence  of  his  own  life.  Even  he  that  sleeps  has  by  this 
event  been  clothed  with  new  influence.  His  simple  and 
weighty  words  will  be  gathered  like  those  of  Wash 
ington,  and  quoted  by  those  who,  were  he  alive,  would 
refuse  to  listen.  Men  will  receive  a  new  access  to 
patriotism.  I  swear  you  on  the  altar  of  his  memory  to 
be  more  faithful  to  that  country  for  which  he  perished. 
We  will,  as  we  follow  his  hearse,  swear  a  new  hatred 
to  that  slavery  against  which  he  warred,  and  which 
in  vanquishing  him  has  made  him  a  martyr  and  con 
queror.  I  swear  you  by  the  memory  of  this  martyr  to 
hate  slavery  with  an  unabatable  hatred,  and  to  pur 
sue  it.  We  will  admire  the  firmness  of  this  man  in 
justice,  his  inflexible  conscience  for  the  right,  his  gen 
tleness  and  moderation  of  spirit,  which  not  all  the  hate 
of  party  could  turn  to  bitterness.  And  I  swear  you  to 
follow  his  justice,  his  moderation,  his  mercy.  How  can 
I  speak  to  that  twilight  million  to  whom  his  name  was 
as  the  name  of  an  angel  of  God,  and  whom  God  sent 
before  them  to  lead  them  out  of  the  house  of  bondage. 
O,  thou  Shepherd  of  Israel,  Thou  that  didst  comfort 
Thy  people  of  old,  to  Thy  care  we  commit  these  help 
less  and  long- wronged  and  grieved. 
And  now  the  martyr  is  moving  in  triumphal  march, 
mightier  than  one  alive.  The  Nation  rises  up  at  every 
stage  of  his  coming;  cities  and  states  are  his  pall 
bearers,  and  the  cannon  beat  the  hours  in  solemn  pro- 


152 


HENRY  WARD  BEECHER 


gression  ;  dead,  dead,  dead,  he  yet  speaketh.  Is  Wash 
ington  dead?  Is  Hampden  dead?  Is  David?  Q  Four 
years  ago,  O  Illinois,  we  took  from  your  midst  an 
untried  man  from  among  the  people.  Behold !  we 
return  him  to  you  a  mighty  conqueror ;  not  thine  any 
more,  but  the  Nation's — not  ours,  but  the  world's. 
Give  him  place,  O  ye  prairies!  in  the  midst  of  this 
great  continent  shall  rest  a  sacred  treasure  to  myriads 
who  shall  pilgrim  to  that  shrine  to  kindle  anew  their 
zeal  and  patriotism.  Ye  winds  that  move  over  mighty 
spaces  of  the  West,  chant  his  requiem  !  Ye  people,  be 
hold  the  martyr  whose  blood,  as  so  many  articulate 
words,  pleads  for  fidelity,  for  law,  for  LIBERTY ! 


ttl* 


TO  THE  HOMES  OF  EMINENT  ORATORS 


Vol.  XIII.  DECEMBER,  1903.  No.  6 


By  ELBERT   HUBBARD 


Single  Copies,  25  cents  By  the  Year,  $3.00 


LITTLE  JOURNEYS 

TO    THE    HOMES     OF 

EMINENT    ORATORS 

By  ELBERT  HUBBARD. 


SUBJECTS     AS     FOLLOWS: 

1  Pericles  7  Marat 

2  Mark  Antony  8  Robert  Ingersoll 

3  Savonarola  9  Patrick  Henry 

4  Martin  Luther  10  Thomas  Starr  King 

5  Edmund  Burke  n  Henry  Ward  Beech' 

6  William  Pitt  12  Wendell  Phillips 


One  booklet  a  month  will  be  issued  as  r 

ning  on  January  ist. 

The  LITTLE  JOURNEYS  for  190?  strictly 

de  luxe  in  form  and  workmanship.  j  will  be  a 

new  font  of  antique  blackface ;  As  designed 

especially  for  this  w0f k ;  a  fro  ,  portrait  from 

the  original  drawing  made  r  op.  The  booklets 

will  be  stitched  by  hand  v 

The  price — 25  cents  each,  01        jo  for  the  year. 

Address  THE   ROYCROFTERS  at  their 
Shop,   which  is  at  East  Aurora,   New  York 

Entered  at  the  postoffice  at  East  Aurora,  New  York,  for  transmission 
as  second-class  mail  matter.   Copyright,  1902,  by  Elbert  Hubbard 


Little 
3oumieys 

To  the  Homes  of 

EMINENT 
ORATORS 


tUfitten  by  Elbert 
Hubband  &  done 
into  a  Book  by  the 

Roy  crofters  at  the 

Shop,  tobicb  is  in 
East  fluitoiui,  Dew 
Yoitk,JFL  D.  1903 


WHAT  WORLD-WIDE  BENEFACTORS   THESE  "IM 
PRUDENT"  MEN  ARE!  HOW  PRUDENTLY  MOST 
MEN  CREEP  INTO    NAMELESS    GRAVES;  WHILE   NOW 
AND  THEN  ONE  OR  TWO  FORGET  THEMSELVES  INTO 
IMMORTALITY. 

— Speech  on  Lovejoy. 


Wendell    Phillips 


WENDELL    PHILLIPS 153 

|AY  the  good  Lord  ever  keep  me  from 
wishing  to  say  the  last  word;  and  also 
from  assigning  ranks  or  awarding  prizes 
to  great  men  gone.  However,  it  is  a  joy 
to  get  acquainted  with  a  noble,  splendid 
personality,  and  then  introduce  him  to 
you,  or  at  least  draw  the  arras,  so  you 
can  see  him  as  he  lived  and  worked  or 
nobly  failed. 

And  if  you  and  I  understand  this  man  it 
is  because  we  are  much  akin  to  him. 
The  only  relationship,  after  all,  is  the 
spiritual  relationship.  Your  brother  after 
the  flesh  may  not  be  your  brother  at  all ; 
you  may  live  in  different  worlds  and  call 
to  each  other  in  strange  tongues  across 
wide  seas  of  misunderstandings.  "  Who 
is  my  mother  and  who  are  my  breth 
ren?" 

As  you  understand  a  man,  just  in  that 
degree  are  you  related  to  him.  There  is 
a  great  joy  in  discovering  kinship — for  in 
that  moment  you  discover  yourself,  and 
life  consists  in  getting  acquainted  with 
yourself.  We  see  ourselves  mirrored  in 
the  soul  of  another — that  is  what  love 
is — or  pretty  nearly  so. 
If  you  like  what  I  write,  it  is  because  I 
express  for  you  the  things  you  already 


i54 WENDELL     PHILLIPS 

know ;  we  are  akin,  our  heads  are  in  the  same  stratum 
— we  are  breathing  the  same  atmosphere.  To  the  de 
gree  that  you  comprehend  the  character  of  "Wendell 
Phillips  you  are  akin  to  him.  I  once  thought  great  men 
were  all  ten  feet  high,  but  since  I  have  met  a  few, 
both  in  astral  form  and  in  the  flesh,  I  have  found  out 
differently  jf  jf 

"What  kind  of  a  man  was  Wendell  Phillips  ? 
Very  much  like  you  and  me,  Blessed,  very  much  like 
you  and  me. 

I  think  well  of  great  people,  I  think  well  of  myself, 
and  I  think  well  of  you.  "We  are  all  God's  children — all 
parts  of  the  "Whole — akin  to  Divinity. 
Phillips  never  thought  he  was  doing  much — never  took 
any  great  pride  in  past  performances.  When  what  you 
have  done  in  the  past  looks  large  to  you,  you  have  not 
done  much  to-day.  His  hopes  were  so  high  that  there 
crept  into  his  life  a  tinge  of  disappointment — some 
have  called  it  bitterness,  but  that  is  not  the  word — 
just  a  touch  of  sadness  because  he  was  unable  to  do 
more.  This  was  a  matter  of  temperament,  perhaps, 
but  it  reveals  the  humanity  as  well  as  the  divinity  of 
the  man.  There  is  nothing  worse  than  self-compla 
cency — smugosity  is  sin.  Q  Phillips  was  not  supremely 
great — if  he  were,  how  could  we  comprehend  him  ? 
QAnd  now  if  you  will  open  those  folding  doors — 
there !  that  will  do — thank  you. 


WENDELL     PHILLIPS 155 

WHEN  was  he  born  ?  Ah,  I  '11  tell  you — it  was 
in  his  twenty-fifth  year — about  three  in  the 
afternoon,  by  the  clock,  October  2ist,  1835. 
Qlt  was  an  Indian  summer  day,  warm  and  balmy.  He 
sat  there  reading  in  the  window  of  his  office  on  Court 
Street,  Boston,  a  spick-span  new  law  office,  with  four 
shelves  of  law  books  bound  in  sheep,  a  green-covered 
table  in  the  centre,  three  arm-chairs,  and  on  the  wall 
a  steel  engraving  of  "Washington  Crossing  the  Dela 
ware."  *T  *T 

He  was  a  handsome  fellow,  was  this  Wendell  Phil 
lips — it  -would  a'  been  worth  your  while  just  to  run  up 
the  stairs  and  put  your  head  in  the  door  to  look  at  him. 
Q"  Can  I  do  anything  for  you  ?  "  he  would  have  asked. 
Q"No,  we  just  wanted  to  see  you,  that's  all,"  we 
would  have  replied. 

He  sat  there  at  the  window,  his  long  legs  crossed,  a 
copy  of  "Coke  on  Littleton  "  in  his  hands.  His  dress 
was  what  it  should  be — that  of  a  gentleman — his  face 
cleanly  shaven,  hair  long,  cut  square  and  falling  to  his 
black  stock.  He  was  the  only  son  of  Boston's  first 
Mayor,  both  to  the  manor  and  manner  born,  rich  in 
his  own  right;  proud,  handsome,  strong,  gentle,  re 
fined,  educated— a  Christian  gentleman,  heir  to  the 
best  that  Boston  had  to  give — a  graduate  of  the  Boston 
Latin  School,  of  Harvard  College,  of  the  Harvard  Law 
School — living  with  his  widowed  mother  in  a  man 
sion  on  Beacon  Hill,  overlooking  Boston's  forty-three 
acres  of  Common ! 


156 WENDELL     PHILLIPS 

Can  you  imagine  anything  more  complete  in  way  of 
endowment  than  all  this  ?  Did  Destiny  ever  do  more 
for  mortal  man  ? 

There  he  sat  waiting  for  clients.  About  this  time  he 
made  the  acquaintance  of  a  cock-eyed  pulchritudinous 
youth,  Ben  Butler  by  name,  who  was  errand  boy  in  a 
nearby  office.  It  was  a  strange  friendship — peppered 
by  much  cross-fire  whenever  they  met  in  public — to 
endure  loyally  for  a  lifetime. 

Clients  are  sure  to  come  to  the  man  who  is  not  too 
anxious  about  them — sure  to  come  to  a  man  like  Phil 
lips — a  youth  clothed  with  the  graces  of  a  Greek — 
waiting  on  the  threshold  of  manhood's  morning. 
Here  is  his  career:  a  successful  lawyer  and  leader  in 
society ;  a  member  of  the  Legislature ;  a  United  States 
Senator,  and  then  if  he  cares  for  it — well,  well,  well ! 
QBut  in  the  meantime,  there  he  sits,  not  with  his  feet 
in  the  window  or  on  a  chair — he  is  a  gentleman,  I  said, 
a  Boston  gentleman — the  flower  of  a  gracile  ancestry. 
In  the  lazy,  hazy  air  is  the  hum  of  autumn  birds  and 
beetles — the  hectic  beauty  of  the  dying  year  is  over  all. 
The  hum  seems  to  grow — it  becomes  a  subdued  roar. 
Q  You  have  sat  behind  the  scenes  waiting  for  the  cur 
tain  to  rise — a  thousand  people  are  there  just  out  of 
your  sight — five  hundred  of  them  are  talking.  It  is  one 
high-keyed  humming  roar. 

The  roar  of  a  mob  is  keyed  lower — it  is  guttural  and 
approaches  a  growl — it  seems  to  come  in  waves,  a 
brazen  roar  rising  and  falling — but  a  roar,  full  of  menace, 


WENDELL    PHILLIPS 157 

hate,  deaf  to  reason,  dead  to  appeal.  Q  You  have  heard 
the  roar  of  the  mob  in  "Julius  Caesar,"  and  stay!  once 
I  heard  the  genuine  article.  It  was  in  Eighty-four — 
goodness  gracious,  I  am  surely  getting  old — it  was  in 
a  town  out  West.  I  saw  nothing  but  a  pushing,  crowd 
ing  mass  of  men,  and  all  I  heard  was  that  deep  gut 
tural  roar  of  the  beast.  I  could  not  make  out  what  it 
was  all  about  until  I  saw  a  man  climbing  a  telegraph 
pole  #•  *T 

He  was  carrying  a  rope  in  one  hand.  As  he  climbed 
higher,  the  roar  subsided.  The  climber  reached  the 
arms  that  form  the  cross.  He  swung  the  rope  over  the 
cross-beam  and  paid  it  out  until  the  end  was  clutched 
by  the  uplifted  hands  of  those  below. 
The  roar  arose  again  like  an  angry  sea,  and  I  saw  the 
figure  of  a  human  being  leap  twenty  feet  into  the  air 
and  swing  and  swirl  at  the  end  of  the  rope. 
The  roar  ceased. 

The  lawyer  laid  down  the  bran-new  book,  bound  in 
sheep,  and  leaned  out  of  the  window — men  were  run 
ning   down  the  thoroughfare,   some  hatless,   and  at 
Washington  Street  could  be  seen  a  black  mass  of  hu 
man  beings — beings  who  had  forsaken  their  reason 
and  merged  their  personality  into  a  mob. 
The  young  lawyer  arose,  put  on  his  hat,  locked  his 
office,  followed  down  the  street.  His  tall  and  muscular 
form  pushed  its  way  through  the  mass. 
Theodore  Lyman,  the  Mayor,  was  standing  on  a  barrel 


_  WENDELL    PHILLIPS 

importuning  the  crowd  to  disperse.  His  voice  was  lost 
in  the  roar  of  the  mob. 

From  down  a  stairway  came  a  procession  of  women, 
thirty  or  so,  walking  by  twos,  very  pale,  but  calm.  The 
crowd  gradually  opened  out  on  a  stern  order  from 
some  unknown  person.  The  young  lawyer  threw  him 
self  against  those  who  blocked  the  way.  The  women 
passed  on,  and  the  crowd  closed  in  as  water  closes 
over  a  pebble  dropped  into  the  river. 
The  disappearance  of  the  women  seemed  to  heighten 
the  confusion:  there  were  stones  thrown,  sounds  of 
breaking  glass  —  a  crash  on  the  stairway,  and  down  the 
narrow  passage,  with  yells  of  triumph,  came  a  crowd 
of  men,  half  dragging  a  prisoner,  a  rope  around  his 
waist,  his  arms  pinioned.  The  man's  face  was  white, 
his  clothing  disheveled  and  torn.  His  resistance  was 
passive  —  no  word  of  entreaty  or  explanation  escaped 
his  lips.  A  sudden  jerk  on  the  rope  from  the  hundred 
hands  that  clutched  it,  threw  the  man  off  his  feet  —  he 
fell  headlong,  his  face  struck  the  stones  of  the  pave 
ment,  and  he  was  dragged  for  twenty  yards.  The  crowd 
grabbed  at  him  and  lifted  him  to  his  feet  —  blood  dripped 
from  his  face,  his  hat  was  gone,  his  coat,  vest  and 
shirt  were  in  shreds. 
The  man  spoke  no  word. 

"That  's  him  —  Garrison,  the  damned  abolitionist!" 
The  words    arose  above  the  din.  "  Kill  him  !   Hang 


Phillips  saw  the  colonel  of  his  militia  regiment,  and 


WENDELL     PHILLIPS 159 

seizing  him  by  the  arm,  said,  "Order  out  the  men  to 
put  down  this  riot!  " 

"Fool!"  said  the  Colonel,  "don't  you  see  our  men 
are  in  this  crowd !  " 

"Then  order  them  into  columns,  and  we  will  protect 
this  man." 

"  I   never  give   orders   unless   I    know   they   will   be 
obeyed.  Besides,  this  man  Garrison  is  a  rioter  him 
self — he  opposes  the  government." 
"  But,  do  we  uphold  mob  law — here,  in  Boston  !  " 
"  Don't  blame  me — I  have  n't  anything  to  do  with  this 
business.  I  tell  you,  if  this  man  Garrison  had  minded 
his  own  affairs,  this  scene  would  never  have  occurred." 
Q  "  And  those  women  ?  " 

"Oh,  they  are  members  of  the  Anti-Slavery  Society. 
It  was  their  holding  the  meeting  that  made  the  trouble- 
The  children  followed  them,  hooting  them  through 
the  streets!" 
"Children?" 

"Yes,  you  know  children  repeat  what  they  hear  at 
home — they  echo  the  thoughts  of  their  elders.  The 
children  hooted  them,  then  some  one  threw  a  stone 
through  a  window.  A  crowd  gathered,  and  here  you 
are!"  &  & 

The  Colonel  shook  himself  loose  from  the  lawyer  and 
followed  the  mob.  The  Mayor's  counsel  prevailed — 
"  Give  the  prisoner  to  me — I  will  see  that  he  is  pun 
ished!"  QAnd  so  he  was  dragged  to  the  City  Hall 
and  there  locked  up. 


i6o WENDELL    PHILLIPS 

The  crowd  lingered,  then  thinned  out.  The  shouts 
grew  less,  and  soon  the  police  were  able  to  rout  the 
loiterers  &  & 

The  young  lawyer  went  back  to  his  law  office,  but  not 
to  study.  The  law  looked  different  to  him  now — the 
whole  legal  aspect  of  things  had  changed  in  an  hour. 
Q  It  was  a  pivotal  point. 

He  had  heard  much  of  the  majesty  of  the  law,  and 
here  he  had  seen  the  entire  machinery  of  justice 
brushed  aside. 

Law !  It  is  the  thing  we  make  with  our  hands  and  then 
fall  down  and  worship.  Men  want  to  do  things,  so  they 
do  them,  and  afterward  they  legalize  them,  just  as  we 
believe  things  first  and  later  hunt  for  reasons.  Or  we 
illegalize  the  thing  we  do  not  want  others  to  do. 
Boston,  standing  for  law  and  order,  will  not  even  al 
low  a  few  women  to  meet  and  discuss  an  economic 
proposition ! 

Abolition  is  a  fool  idea,  but  we  must  have  free  speech 
— that  is  what  our  Constitution  is  built  upon !  Law  is 
supposed  to  protect  free  speech,  even  to  voicing  wrong 
ideas !  Surely  a  man  has  a  legal  right  to  a  wrong  opin 
ion  !  A  mob  in  Boston  to  put  down  free  speech ! 
This  young  lawyer  was  not  an  Abolitionist — not  he, 
but  he  was  an  American,  descended  from  the  Puri 
tans,  with  ancestors  who  fought  in  the  war  of  the 
Revolution — he  believed  in  fair  play. 
His  cheeks  burned  with  shame. 


WENDELL     PHILLIPS 161 

SEEN  from  Mount  Olympus,  how  small  and  piti 
ful  must  seem  the  antics  of  Earth — all  these 
churches  and  little  sects — our  laws,  our  argu 
ments,  our  courts  of  justice,  our  elections,  our  -wars ! 
Q  Viewed  across  the  years,  the  Abolition  Movement 
seems  a  small  thing.  It  is  so  thoroughly  dead — so  far 
removed  from  our  present  interests !  We  hear  a  Vir 
ginian  praise  John  Brown,  listen  to  Henry  Watterson 
as  he  says,  "  The  South  never  had  a  better  friend  than 
Lincoln,"  or  brave  General  Gordon,  as  he  declares, 
"  We  now  know  that  slavery  was  a  gigantic  mistake, 
and  that  Emerson  was  right  when  he  said,  '  One  end 
of  the  slave's  chain  is  always  riveted  to  the  wrist  of 
the  master.'  " 

We  can  scarcely  comprehend  that  fifty  years  ago  the 
trinity  of  money,  fashion  and  religion  combined  in  the 
hot  endeavor  to  make  human  slavery  a  perpetuity; 
that  the  man  of  the  North  who  hinted  at  resisting  the 
return  of  a  runaway  slave,  was  in  danger  of  financial 
ruin,  social  ostracism,  and  open  rebuke  from  the  pul 
pit.  The  ears  of  Boston  were  so  stuffed  with  South 
Carolina  cotton  that  they  could  not  hear  the  cry  of  the 
oppressed.  Commerce  was  fettered  by  self-interest, 
and  law  ever  finds  precedents  and  sanctions  for  what 
commerce  most  desires.  And  as  for  the  pulpit,  it  is 
like  the  law,  in  that  scriptural  warrant  is  always  forth 
coming  for  what  the  pew  wishes  to  do. 
Slavery,  theoretically,  might  be  an  error,  but  in 
America  it  was  a  commercial,  political,  social  and 


i6a WENDELL    PHILLIPS 

religious  necessity,  and  any  man  who  said  otherwise 
was  an  enemy  of  the  state. 

'William  Lloyd  Garrison  said  otherwise.  But  who  was 
'William  Lloyd  Garrison  ?  Only  an  ignorant  and  fanat 
ical  free-thinker  from  the  country  town  of  Newbury- 
port,  Mass.  He  had  started  four  or  five  newspapers, 
and  all  had  failed,  because  he  would  not  keep  his  pen 
quiet  on  the  subject  of  slavery. 

New  England  must  have  cotton,  and  cotton  could  not 
be  produced  without  slaves.  Garrison  was  a  fool.  All 
good  Christians  refused  to  read  his  vile  sheet,  and 
business  men  declined  to  advertise  with  him  or  to 
subscribe  to  his  paper. 

However,  he  continued  to  print  things,  telling  what 
he  thought  of  slavery.  In  1831,  he  was  issuing  a  peri 
odical  called  "The  Liberator." 

I  saw  a  partial  file  of  "The  Liberator"  recently,  at 
the  Boston  Public  Library.  They  say  it  is  very  pre 
cious,  and  a  custodian  stood  by  and  tenderly  turned 
the  leaves  for  me.  I  was  not  allowed  even  to  touch  it, 
and  when  I  was  through  looking  at  the  tattered  pages, 
they  locked  it  up  in  a  fire-proof  safe. 
The  sheets  of  different  issues  were  of  various  sizes, 
and  the  paper  was  of  several  grades  in  quality,  show 
ing  that  stock  was  scarce,  and  that  there  was  no  sys 
tem  in  the  office. 

There  surely  was  not  much  of  a  subscription  list,  and 
we  hear  of  Garrison's  going  around  and  asking  for 
contributions.  But  interviews  were  what  he  really 


WENDELL    PHILLIPS 163 

wished,  as  much  as  subscribers.  He  let  the  preachers 
defend  the  peculiar  institution — to  print  a  man's  fool 
remarks  is  the  most  cruel  way  of  indicting  him.  Among 
others  Garrison  called  on  -was  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher, 
then  thundering  against  Unitarianism. 
Garrison  got  various  clergymen  to  commit  themselves 
in   favor  of  slavery,  and  he  quoted  them  verbatim, 
whereas,  on   this   subject,  the    clergy   of  the   North 
wished  to  remain  silent — very  silent. 
Dr.  Beecher  was  wary — all  he  would  say  was,  "  I 
have  too  many  irons  in  the  fire  now ! " 
"You  better  take  them  all  out  and  put  this  one  in," 
said  the  seedy  editor. 

But  Dr.  Beecher  made  full  amends  later — he  supplied 
a  son  and  a  daughter  to  the  Abolition  Movement,  and 
this  caused  Carlos  Martyn  to  say,  "The  old  man's 
loins  were  -wiser  than  his  head." 

Garrison  had  gotten  himself  thoroughly  disliked  in 
Boston.  The  Mayor  once  replied  to  a  letter  inquiring 
about  him,  "He  is  a  nobody  and  lives  in  a  rat  hole." 
Q  But  Garrison  managed  to  print  his  paper,  rather  ir 
regularly,  to  be  sure,  but  he  printed  it.  From  one  room 
he  moved  into  two,  and  a  straggling  company,  calling 
themselves  "The  Anti-Slavery  Society,"  used  his 
office  for  a  meeting  place. 

And  now,  behold  the  office  mobbed,  the  type  pitched 
into  the  street,  the  Society  driven  out,  and  the  fanat 
ical  editor,  bruised  and  battered,  safely  lodged  in  jail 
— writing  editorials  with  a  calm  resolution  and  a  will 


164 WENDELL     PHILLIPS 

that  never  faltered.  Q  And  Wendell  Phillips  ?  He  was 
pacing  the  streets,  wondering  whether  it  was  worth 
while  to  be  respectable  and  prosperous  in  a  city  where 
violence  took  the  place  of  law  when  logic  failed. 
To  him,  Garrison  had  won — Garrison  had  not  been  an 
swered:  only  beaten,  bullied,  abused  and  thrust  behind 
prison  bars. 
Wendell  Phillips'  cheeks  burned  with  shame. 


GARRISON  was  held  a  prisoner  for  several  days. 
QThe  Mayor  would  have  punished  the  man, 
Pilate-like,  to  appease  public  opinion,  but 
there  was  no  law  to  cover  the  case — no  illegal  offense 
had  been  committed.  Garrison  demanded  a  trial,  but 
the  officials  said  that  they  had  locked  him  up  merely 
to  protect  him,  and  that  he  was  a  base  ingrate.  Offi 
cial  Boston  now  looked  at  the  whole  matter  as  a  good 
thing  to  forget.  The  prisoner's  cell  door  was  left  open, 
in  the  hope  that  he  would  escape,  just  as,  later,  George 
Francis  Train  enjoyed  the  distinction  of  being  the  only 
man  who  was  literally  kicked  down  the  stone  steps  of 
the  Tombs. 

Garrison  was  thrust  out  of  limbo,  with  a  warning,  and 
a  hint  that  Boston-town  was  a  good  place  for  him  to 
emigrate  from. 

But  Garrison  neither  ran  away  nor  went  into  hiding 
— he  calmly  began  a  canvass  to  collect  money  to  refit 
his  printing  office.  Boston  had  treated  him  well — the 


WENDELL     PHILLIPS 165 

blood  of  the  martyrs  is  the  seed  of  the  church — he 
would  stay.  Men  who  fatten  on  difficulties  are  hard  to 
subdue.  Phillips  met  Garrison  shortly  after  his  re 
lease,  quite  by  chance,  at  the  house  of  Henry  G. 
Chapman.  Garrison  was  six  years  older  than  Phillips 
— tall,  angular,  intellectual,  and  lacked  humor.  He  also 
lacked  culture.  Phillips  looked  at  him  and  smiled 
grimly  *f  jf 

But  in  the  Chapman  household  was  still  another  per 
son,  more  or  less  interesting,  a  Miss  Ann  Terry 
Greene.  She  was  an  orphan  and  an  heiress — a  ward  of 
Chapman's.  Young  Phillips  had  never  before  met  Miss 
Greene,  but  she  had  seen  him.  She  was  one  of  the 
•women  who  came  down  the  stairs  from  the  "  Liber 
ator"  office,  when  the  mob  collected.  She  had  seen 
the  tall  form  of  Phillips,  and  had  noticed  that  he  used 
his  elbows  to  good  advantage  in  opening  up  the  gang 
way  #-  & 

"  It  was  a  little  like  a  cane-rush — your  campus  practice 
served  you  in  good  stead,"  said  the  lady,  and  smiled. 
QAnd  Phillips  listened,  perplexed — that  a  young 
woman  like  this,  frail,  intellectual,  of  good  family, 
should  mix  up  in  fanatical  schemes  for  liberating  black 
men.  He  could  not  understand  it ! 

"  But  you  were  there — you  helped  get  us  out  of  the 
difficulty.  And  if  worse  had  come  to  worst,  I  might 
have  appealed  to  you  personally  for  protection  !" 
And  the  young  lawyer  stammered,  "  I   would   have 
been  only  too  happy,"  or  something  like  that.  The  lady 


166 WENDELL    PHILLIPS 

had  the  best  of  the  logic,  and  a  thin  attempt  to  pity 
her  on  account  of  the  unfortunate  occurrence,  went  off 
by  the  right  oblique  and  was  lost  in  space. 
These  Abolitionists  were  a  queer  lot ! 
Not  long  after  that  meeting  at  Chapman's,  the  young 
lawyer  had  legal  business  at  Greenfield,  that  must  be 
looked  after.  Now  Greenfield  is  one  hundred   miles 
from  Boston — but  then  it  was  the  same  distance  from 
tide-water  that  Omaha  is  now — that  is  to  say,  a  two- 
days'  journey. 

The  day  was  set.  The  stage  left  every  morning  at  nine 
o'clock  from  the  Bowdoin  Tavern  in  Bowdoin  Square. 
A  young  fellow  by  the  name  of  Charles  Sumner  was 
going  with  Phillips,  but  at  the  last  moment  was  de 
tained  by  other  business.  That  his  chum  could  not  go 
was  a  disappointment  to  Phillips — he  paced  the  stone- 
paved  court-way  of  the  tavern  with  clouded  brow.  All 
around  was  the  bustle  of  travel,  and  tearful  friends 
bidding  folks  good-bye,  and  the  romantic  rush  of  stage 
coach  land. 

The  ease  and  luxury  of  travel  have  robbed  it  of  its 
poetry — Ruskin  was  right ! 

But  it  did  n't  look  romantic  to  "Wendell  Phillips  just 
then — his  chum  had  failed  him — the  weather  was  cold, 
two  days  of  hard  jolting  lay  ahead.  And — "Ah!  yes — 
it  is  Miss  Greene !  and  Miss  Grew,  and  Mr.  Alvord. 
To  Greenfield  ?  why,  how  fortunate !  " 
Obliging  strangers  exchanged  seats,  so  our  friends 
could  be  together — passengers  found  their  places  on 


WENDELL    PHILLIPS 167 

top  or  inside,  bundles  and  bandboxes  were  packed 
away,  harness  chains  rattled,  a  long  whip  sang  through 
the  air,  and  the  driver,  holding  a  big  bunch  of  lines  in 
one  hand,  swung  the  six  horses,  with  careless  grace, 
out  of  Bowdoin  Square,  and  turned  the  leaders'  heads 
towards  Cambridge.  The  post-horn  tooted  merrily, 
dogs  barked,  and  stable-boys  raised  a  good-bye  cheer! 
Q  Out  past  Harvard  Square  they  went,  through  Arling 
ton  and  storied  Lexington — on  to  Concord — through 
Fitchburg,  to  Greenfield. 

It  does  n't  take  long  to  tell  it,  but  that  was  a  wonder 
ful  trip  for  Phillips — the  greatest  and  most  important 
journey  of  his  life,  he  said  forty  years  later. 
Miss  Grew  lived  in  Greenfield  and  had  been  down  to 
visit  Miss  Greene.  Mr.  Alvord  was  engaged  to  Miss 
Grew,  and  wanted  to  accompany  her  home,  but  he 
could  n't  exactly,  you  know,  unless  Miss  Greene  went 
along  &  *T 

So  Miss  Greene  obliged  them.  The  girls  knew  the  day 
Phillips  was  going,  and  hastened  their  plans  a  trifle, 
so  as  to  take  the  same  stage — at  least  that  is  what 
Charles  Sumner  said. 

They  did  n't  tell  Phillips,  because  a  planned  excursion 
on  part  of  these  young  folks  would  n't  have  been  just 
right — Beacon  Hill  would  not  have  approved.  But 
when  they  had  bought  their  seats  and  met  at  the  stage- 
yard — why,  that  was  a  different  matter. 
Besides,  Mr.  Alvord  and  Miss  Grew  were  engaged, 
and  Miss  Greene  was  a  cousin  of  Miss  Grew — there ! 


i68 WENDELL    PHILLIPS 

Q  Let  me  here  say  that  I  am  quite  aware  that  long 
after  Miss  Grew  became  Mrs.  Alvord,  she  wrote  a 
most  charming  little  book  about  Ann  Terry  Greene, 
in  which  she  defends  the  woman  against  any  suspicion 
that  she  plotted  and  planned  to  snare  the  heart  of 
Wendell  Phillips,  on  the  road  to  Greenfield.  The  de 
fense  was  done  in  love,  but  was  unnecessary.  Ann 
Terry  Greene  needs  no  vindication.  As  for  her  snaring 
the  heart  of  Wendell  Phillips,  I  rest  solidly  on  this : 
She  did. 

Whether   Miss    Greene   coolly  planned   that  trip   to 
Greenfield,  I  cannot  say,  but  I  hope  so. 
And,  anyway,  it  was  destiny — it  had  to  be. 
This  man  and  woman  were  made  for  each  other — they 
were  "  elected  "  before  the  foundations  of  Earth  were 
laid  0-  & 

The  first  few  hours  out,  they  were  very  gay.  Later, 
they  fell  into  serious  conversation.  The  subject  was 
Abolition.  Miss  Greene  knew  the  theme  in  all  of  its 
ramifications  and  parts — its  history,  its  difficulties,  its 
dangers,  its  ultimate  hopes.  Phillips  soon  saw  that 
all  of  his  tame  objections  had  been  made  before  and 
answered.  Gradually  the  horror  of  human  bondage 
swept  over  him,  and  against  this  came  the  magnifi 
cence  of  freedom  and  of  giving  freedom.  By  evening, 
it  came  to  him  that  all  of  the  immortal  names  in 
history  where  those  of  men  who  had  fought  liberty's 
battle.  That  evening,  as  they  sat  around  the  crackling 
fire  at  the  Fitchburg  Tavern,  they  did  not  talk — a  point 


WENDELL  PHILLIPS 169 

had  been  reached  where  words  were  superfluous — the 
silence  sufficed.  At  day-break  the  next  morning  the 
journey  was  continued.  There  was  conversation,  but 
voices  were  keyed  lower.  When  the  stage  mounted  a 
steep  hill  they  got  out  and  walked.  Melancholy  had 
taken  place  of  mirth.  Both  felt  that  a  great  and  mys 
terious  change  had  come  over  their  spirits — their 
thought  was  fused.  Miss  Greene  had  suffered  social 
obloquy  on  account  of  her  attitude  on  the  question  of 
slavery — to  share  this  obloquy  seemed  now  the  one 
thing  desirable  to  Phillips.  It  is  a  great  joy  to  share 
disgrace  with  the  right  person.  The  woman  had  intel 
lect,  education,  self-reliance — and  passion.  There  was 
an  understanding  between  them.  And  yet  no  word  of 
tenderness  had  been  spoken.  An  avowal  formulated 
in  words  is  a  cheap  thing,  and  a  spoken  proposal  goes 
with  a  cheap  passion.  The  love  that  makes  the  silence 
eloquence  and  fills  the  heart  with  a  melody  too  sacred 
to  voice,  is  the  true  token.  O  God!  we  thank  thee  for  the 
thoughts  and  feelings  that  are  beyond  speech. 


WHEN  it  became  known  that  Wendell  Phil 
lips,  the  most  promising  of  Boston's  young 
sons,  had  turned  Abolitionist,  Beacon  Hill 
rent  its  clothes  and  put  ashes  on  its  head. 
On  the  question  of  slavery,  the  first  families  of  the 
North  stood  with  the  first  families  of  the  South— the 
rights  of  property  were  involved,  as  well  as  the  ques- 


WENDELL    PHILLIPS 

tion  of  caste.  Q  Let  one  of  the  scions  of  Wall  Street 
avow  himself  an  anarchist  and  the  outcry  of  horror 
would  not  be  greater  than  it  was  when  young  Phil 
lips  openly  declared  himself  an  Abolitionist.  His  im 
mediate  family  were  in  tears;  the  relatives  said  they 
were  disgraced;  cousins  cut  him  dead  on  the  street, 
and  his  name  was  stricken  from  the  list  of  "invited 
guests."  The  social-column  editors  ignored  him,  and 
worst  of  all,  his  clients  fled. 

The  biographers  are  too  intensely  partisan  to  believe, 
literally,  and  when  one  says,  "  He  left  a  large  and 
lucrative  practice  that  he  might  devote  himself,"  etc., 
etc.,  we  better  reach  for  the  Syracuse  product. 
Wendell  Phillips  never  had  a  large  and  lucrative  prac 
tice,  and  if  he  had,  he  would  not  have  left  it.  His  little 
law  business  was  the  kind  that  all  fledgelings  get — the 
kind  that  big  lawyers  do  not  want,  and  so  they  pass  it 
over  to  the  boys.  Doctors  are  always  turning  pauper 
patients  over  to  the  youngsters,  and  so  in  successful 
law  offices  there  is  more  or  less  of  this  semi-charitable 
work  to  do.  Business  houses  also  have  fag-end  work 
that  they  give  to  beginners,  as  kind  folks  give  bones  to 
Fido.  Wendell  Phillips'  law  work  was  exactly  of  this 
contingent  kind— big  business  and  big  fees  only  go  to 
big  men  and  tried. 

Law  is  a  business,  and  lawyers  who  succeed  are  busi 
ness  men.  Social  distinction  has  its  pull  in  all  profes 
sions  and  all  arts,  and  the  man  who  can  afford  to  affront 
society  and  hope  to  succeed  is  as  one  in  a  million. 


WENDELL    PHILLIPS 171 

Lawyers  and  business  men  were  not  so  troubled  about 
"Wendell  Phillips'  inward  beliefs  as  they  were  in  the 
fact  that  he  was  a  fool — he  had  flung  away  his  chances 
of  getting  on  in  the  world.  They  ceased  to  send  him 
business — he  had  no  work — no  callers — folks  he  used 
to  know  were  now  strangely  near-sighted. 
Phillips  did  n't  quit  the  practice  of  law,  any  more  than 
he  withdrew  from  society — both  law  and  society  quit 
him.  And  then  he  made  a  virtue  of  necessity  and  boldly 
resigned  his  commission  as  a  lawyer — he  would  not 
longer  be  bound  to  protect  the  Constitution  that  up 
held  the  right  of  a  slave-owner  to  capture  his  "property ' ' 
in  Massachusetts. 

He  and  Ann  talked  this  over  at  length — they  had  little 
else  to  do.  They  excommunicated  society,  and  Wen 
dell  Phillips  became  an  outlaw,  in  the  same  way  that 
the  James  boys  became  outlaws — through  accident, 
and  not  through  choice.  Social  disgrace  is  never 
sought,  and  obloquy  is  not  a  thing  to  covet — these 
things  may  come,  and  usually  they  mean  a  smother- 
blanket  to  all  -worldly  success. 

But  Ann  and  Wendell  had  their  love;  and  each  had  a 
bank  account,  and  then  they  had  pride  that  proved  a 
prophylactic  'gainst  the  clutch  of  oblivion. 
On  October  i2th,  1837,  the  outlaws,  Ann  and  Wendell, 
were  married.  It  -was  a  quiet  wedding — guests  were 
not  invited  because  it  was  not  pleasant  to  court  cyn 
ical  regrets,  and  kinsmen  were  noticeable  by  their 
absence. 


ITS WENDELL     PHILLIPS 

Proscription  has  its  advantages — for  one  thing,  it  binds 
human  hearts  like  hoops  of  steel.  Yet  it  was  not  neces 
sary  here,  for  there  was  no  waning  of  the  honeymoon 
during  that  forty-odd  years  of  married  life. 
But   scarcely   had  the  petals  fallen  from  the  orange 
blossoms,  before  an  event  occurred  that  marked  an 
other  mile-stone  in  the  career  of  Phillips. 
At  St.  Louis,  the  Rev.  E.  P.  Lovejoy,  a  Presbyterian 
clergyman,  had  been  mobbed  and  his  printing  office 
sacked,  because  he  had  expressed  himself  on  the  sub 
ject  of  slavery.  Lovejoy  then  moved  up  to  Alton,  Illi 
nois,  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  on  free  soil,  and 
here  he  sought  to  re-establish  his  newspaper. 
But  he  was  to  benefit  the  cause  in  another  way  than 
by  printing  editorials.  The  place   was   attacked,  the 
presses  broken  into  fragments,  the  type  flung  into  the 
Mississippi  River,  and  Lovejoy  was  killed. 
A  tremor  of  horror  ran  through  the  North — it  was  not 
the  question  of  slavery — no,  it  was  the  right  of  free 
speech. 

A  meeting  was  called  at  Faneuil  Hall  to  consider  the 
matter  and  pass  fitting  resolutions.  There  was  some 
thing  beautifully  ironical  in  Boston  interesting  herself 
concerning  the  doings  of  a  mob  a  thousand  miles  away, 
especially  when  Boston,  herself,  had  done  about  the 
same  thing  only  two  years  before. 
Boston  preferred  to  forget — but  somebody  would  not 
let  her.  Just  who  called  the  meeting,  no  one  seemed  to 
know.  The  word  " Abolition"  was  not  used  on  the 


WENDELL     PHILLIPS 173 

placards — "free  speech"  was  the  shibboleth.  The  hall 
had  been  leased,  and  the  assembly  was  to  occur  in  the 
forenoon.  The  principal  actors  evidently  anticipated 
serious  trouble  if  the  meeting  was  at  night. 
The  authorities  sought  to  discourage  the  gathering,  but 
this  only  advertised  it.  At  the  hour  set,  the  place — 
"the  Cradle  of  Liberty" — was  packed. 
The  crowd  was  made  up  of  three  classes,  the  Aboli 
tionists — and  they  were  in  the  minority — the  mob  who 
hotly  opposed  them,  and  the  curious  and  indifferent 
people  who  wanted  to  see  the  fireworks. 
Many  women  were  in  the  audience,  and  a  dozen  cler 
gymen  on  the  platform — this  gave  respectability  to  the 
assemblage.  The  meeting  opened  tamely  enough  with 
a  trite  talk  by  a  Unitarian  clergyman,  and  followed 
along  until  the  resolutions  were  read.  Then  there  were 
cries  of,  "Table  them!" — the  matter  was  of  no  im 
portance. 

A  portly  figure  was  seen  making  its  way  to  the  plat 
form.  It  was  the  Hon.  James  T.  Austin,  Attorney- 
General  of  the  State.  He  was  stout,  florid,  ready  of 
tongue — a  practical  stump-speaker  and  withal  a  good 
deal  of  a  popular  favorite.  The  crowd  cheered  him — 
he  caught  them  from  the  start.  His  intent  was  to  ex 
plode  the  whole  thing  into  a  laugh,  or  else  end  it  in  a 
row — he  did  n't  care  which. 

He  pooh-poohed  the  whole  affair;  and  referred  to  the 
slaves  as  a  menagerie  of  lions,  tigers,  hyenas — a  jack 
ass  or  two — and  a  host  of  monkeys,  which  the  fool 


i74 WENDELL     PHILLIPS 

Abolitionists  were  trying  to  turn  loose.  He  regretted 
the  death  of  Lovejoy,  but  his  taking  off  should  be  a 
warning  to  all  good  people — they  should  be  law-abiding 
and  mind  their  own  business.  He  moved  that  the  res 
olutions  be  tabled. 

The  applause  that  followed  showed  that  if  a  vote  were 
then  taken  the  Attorney-General's  motion  would  have 
prevailed  jf  jf 

"Answer  him,  "Wendell,  answer  him!"  whispered 
Ann,  excitedly,  and  before  the  Attorney-General  had 
bowed  himself  from  the  platform,  "Wendell  Phillips 
had  sprung  upon  the  stage  and  stood  facing  the  audi 
ence.  There  were  cries  of,  "  Vote  !  vote  !  " — the  mob- 
ocrats  wanted  to  cut  the  matter  short.  Still  others 
shouted,  "Fair  play!  Let  us  hear  the  boy!"  The 
young  man  stood  there,  calm,  composed — handsome 
in  the  strength  of  youth.  He  waited  until  the  audience 
came  to  him  and  then  he  spoke  in  that  dulcet  voice 
—  deliberate,  measured,  faultless  —  every  sentence 
spaced.  The  charm  of  his  speech  caught  the  curiosity 
of  the  crowd.  People  did  not  know  whether  he  was  go 
ing  to  sustain  the  Attorney-General  or  assail  him.  From 
compliments  and  generalities  he  moved  off  into  bitter 
sarcasm.  He  riddled  the  cheap  wit  of  his  opponent ;  tore 
his  logic  to  tatters  and  held  the  pitiful  rags  of  reason 
up  before  the  audience.  There  were  cries  of,  "Trea 
son!"  "Put  him  out!"  Phillips  simply  smiled  and 
waited  for  the  frenzy  to  subside.  The  speaker  who 
has  aroused  his  hearers  into  a  tumult  of  either  dissent 


WENDELL     PHILLIPS 175 

or  approbation  has  won — and  Phillips  did  both.  He 
spoke  for  thirty  minutes  and  finished  in  a  -whirlwind  of 
applause.  The  Attorney-General  had  disappeared,  and 
those  of  his  followers  who  remained  were  strangely 
silent.  The  resolutions  were  passed  in  a  shout  of  ac 
clamation  <r  dT 

The  fame  of  Wendell  Phillips  as  an  orator  was  made. 
Father  Taylor  once  said,  "  If  Emerson  goes  to  hell,  he 
will  start  emigration  in  that  direction."  And  from  the 
day  of  that  first  Faneuil  Hall  speech  Wendell  Phillips 
gradually  caused  Abolitionism  in  New  England  to  be 
come  respectable. 


PHILLIPS  was  twenty-seven  years  old  when  he 
gave  that  first  great  speech,  and  for  just  twenty- 
seven  years  he  continued  to  speak  on  the  subject 
of  slavery.  He  was  an  agitator — he  was  a  man  who 
divided  men.  He  supplied  courage  to  the  weak,  argu 
ments  to  the  many  and  sent  a  chill  of  hate  and  fear 
through  the  hearts  of  the  enemy.  And  just  here  is  a 
good  place  to  say  that  your  radical — your  fire-eater,  agi 
tator,  &  revolutionary  who  dips  his  pen  in  aqua  fortis, 
&  punctuates  with  blood,  is  almost  without  exception, 
met  socially,  a  very  gentle,  modest  and  suave  individ 
ual.  'William  Lloyd  Garrison,  Wendell  Phillips,  Horace 
Greeley,  Fred  Douglass,  George  William  Curtis,  &  even 
John  Brown,  were  all  men  with  low,  musical  voices 
and  modest  ways — men  who  would  not  tread  on  an 


i76 WENDELL    PHILLIPS 

insect  nor  harm  a  toad.  Q  When  the  fight  had  been 
won — the  Emancipation  Proclamation  issued — there 
were  still  other  fights  ahead.  The  habit  of  Phillips' 
life  had  become  fixed. 

He  and  Ann  lived  in  that  plain  little  home  on  Exeter 
Street,  and  to  this  home  of  love  he  constantly  turned 
for  rest  and  inspiration. 

At  the  close  of  the  war  he  found  his  fortune  much  im 
paired,  and  he  looked  to  the  Lyceum  Stage — the  one 
thing  for  which  he  was  so  eminently  fitted. 
It  was  about  the  year  1880  a  callow  interviewer  asked 
him  who  his  closest  associates  were.  The  answer 
was,  "My  colleagues  are  hackmen  and  hotel  clerks; 
and  I  also  know  every  conductor,  brakeman  and  engi 
neer  on  every  railroad  in  America.  My  home  is  in  the 
caboose,  and  my  business  is  establishing  trains." 
I  heard  "Wendell  Phillips  speak  but  once.  I  was  about 
twelve  years  of  age,  and  my  father  and  I  had  ridden 
ten  miles  across  the  wind-swept  prairie  in  the  face  of 
a  winter  storm. 

It  was  midnight  when  we  reached  home,  but  I  could 
not  sleep  until  I  had  told  my  mother  all  about  it.  I  re 
member  the  hall  was  packed,  and  there  were  many 
gas  lights,  and  on  the  stage  were  a  dozen  men — all 
very  great,  my  father  said.  One  man  arose  and  spoke. 
He  lifted  his  hands,  raised  his  voice,  stamped  his  foot, 
and  I  thought  he  surely  was  a  very  great  man.  He  was 
just  introducing  the  real  speaker. 
Then  the  Real  Speaker  walked  slowly  down  to  the 


WENDELL,     PHILLIPS 177 

front  of  the  stage  and  stood  very  still.  And  everybody 
was  awful  quiet — no  one  coughed,  nor  shuffled  his  feet, 
nor  whispered — I  never  knew  a  thousand  folks  could 
be  so  still.  I  could  hear  my  heart  beat — I  leaned  over 
to  listen  and  I  wondered  what  his  first  words  would 
be,  for  I  had  promised  to  remember  them  for  my 
mother.  And  the  words  were  these — "  My  dear  friends: 
We  have  met  here  to-night  to  talk  about  the  Lost 
Arts."  *  *  *  *  That  is  just  what  he  said— I  '11  not  de 
ceive  you — and  it  was  n't  a  speech  at  all — he  just  talked 
to  us.  We  were  his  dear  friends — he  said  so,  and  a 
man  with  a  gentle,  quiet  voice  like  that  would  not  call 
us  his  friends  if  he  wasn't  our  friend. 
He  had  found  out  some  wonderful  things  and  he  had 
just  come  to  tell  us  about  them  ;  about  how  thousands 
of  years  ago  men  worked  in  gold  and  silver  and  ivory; 
how  they  dug  canals,  sailed  strange  seas,  built  won 
derful  palaces,  carved  statues  and  wrote  books  on  the 
skins  of  animals.  He  just  stood  there  and  told  us  about 
these  things — he  stood  still,  with  one  hand  behind  him, 
or  resting  on  his  hip,  or  at  his  side,  and  the  other  hand 
motioned  a  little — that  was  all.  We  expected  every 
minute  he  would  burst  out  and  make  a  speech,  but  he 
did  n't — he  just  talked.  There  was  a  big  yellow  pitcher 
and  a  tumbler  on  the  table,  but  he  did  n't  drink  once, 
because  you  see  he  did  n't  work  very  hard — he  just 
talked — he  talked  for  two  hours.  I  know  it  was  two 
hours,  because  we  left  home  at  six  o'clock,  got  to  the 
hall  at  eight,  and  reached  home  at  midnight.  We  came 


ITS WENDELL    PHILLIPS 

home  as  fast  as  we  went,  and  if  it  took  us  two  hours 
to  come  home,  and  he  began  at  eight,  he  must  have 
been  talking  for  two  hours.  I  did  n't  go  to  sleep— did  n't 
nod  once  jf  & 

We  hoped  he  would  make  a  speech  before  he  got 
through,  but  he  did  n't.  He  just  talked,  and  I  under 
stood  it  all.  Father  held  my  hand — we  laughed  a  little 
in  places,  at  others  we  wanted  to  cry,  but  did  n't — but 
most  of  the  time  we  just  listened.  We  were  going  to 
applaud,  but  forgot  it.  He  called  us  his  dear  friends. 
QI  have  heard  thousands  of  speeches  since  that  win 
ter  night  in  Illinois.  Very  few  indeed  can  I  recall,  and 
beyond  the  general  theme,  that  speech  by  Wendell 
Phillips  has  gone  from  my  memory.  But  I  remember 
the  presence  and  attitude  and  voice  of  the  man  as 
though  it  were  but  yesterday.  The  calm  courage,  de 
liberation,  beauty  and  strength  of  the  speaker — his 
knowledge,  his  gentleness,  his  friendliness!  I  had 
heard  many  sermons,  and  some  had  terrified  me.  This 
time  I  had  expected  to  be  thrilled,  too,  and  so  I  sat 
very  close  to  my  father  and  felt  for  his  hand.  And  here 
it  was  all  just  quiet  joy — I  understood  it  all.  I  was 
pleased  with  myself;  and  being  pleased  with  myself,  I 
was  pleased  with  the  speaker.  He  was  the  biggest  and 
best  man  I  had  ever  seen — the  first  real  man. 
It  is  no  small  thing  to  be  a  man ! 


WENDELL    PHILLIPS 179 

IN  1853,  Emerson  said  the  reason  Phillips  'was  the 
best  public  speaker  in  America  was  because  he 
had  spoken  every  day  for  fourteen  years. 
This  observation  did  n't  apply  to  Phillips  at  all,  but 
Emerson  used  Phillips  to  hammer  home  a  great  gen 
eral  truth,  which  was  that  practice  makes  perfect. 
Emerson,  like  all  the  rest  of  us,  had  certain  pet  theo 
ries,  which  he  was  constantly  bolstering  by  analogy 
and  example.  He  had  Phillips  in  mind  when  he  said 
that  the  best  drill  for  an  orator  was  a  course  of  mobs. 
Q  But  the  cold  fact  remains  that  Phillips  never  made 
a  better  speech,  even  after  fourteen  years  daily  prac 
tice,  than  that  reply  to  Attorney-General  Austin,  at 
Faneuil  Hall. 

He  gave  himself,  and  it  was  himself  full-armed  and  at 
his  best.  All  the  conditions  were  exactly  right — there 
was  hot  opposition ;  and  there  also  was  love  and  en 
couragement. 

His  opponent,  with  brag,  bluster,  pomposity,  cheap 
wit  and  insincerity  served  him  as  a  magnificent  foil. 
Never  again  were  wind  and  tide  so  in  his  favor. 
It  is  opportunity  that  brings  out  the  great  man,  but  he 
only  is  great  who  prepares  for  the  opportunity — who 
knows  it  will  come — and  who  seizes  upon  it  when  it 
arrives. 

In  this  speech,  Wendell  Phillips  reveals  himself  at 
his  best — it  has  the  same  ring  of  combined  courage, 
culture  and  sincerity  that  he  showed  to  the  last.  Clear 
thinking  and  clear  speaking  marked  the  man.  Taine 


i8o WENDELL     PHILLIPS 

says  the  style  is  the  man — the  Phillips  style  was  all  in 
that  first  speech,  and  here  is  a  sample : 

To  draw  the  conduct  of  our  ancestors  into  a  precedent 
for  mobs,  for  a  right  to  resist  laws  we  ourselves  have 
enacted,  is  an  insult  to  their  memory.  The  difference 
between  the  excitement  of  those  days  and  our  own, 
which  this  gentleman  in  kindness  to  the  latter  has 
overlooked,  is  simply  this :  the  men  of  that  day  went 
for  the  right,  as  secured  by  laws.  They  were  the  peo 
ple  rising  to  sustain  the  laws  and  constitution  of  the 
province.  The  rioters  of  our  day  go  for  their  own  wills, 
right  or  wrong.  Sir,  when  I  heard  the  gentlemen  lay 
down  principles  which  place  the  murderers  of  Alton 
side  by  side  with  Otis  and  Hancock,  with  Quincy  and 
Adams,  I  thought  those  pictured  lips  [  pointing  to  the 
portraits  in  the  hall  ]  would  have  broken  into  voice  to 
rebuke  the  recreant  American — the  slanderer  of  the 
dead! 

The  gentleman  said  he  should  sink  into  insignificance 
if  he  condescended  to  gainsay  the  principles  of  these 
resolutions.  For  the  sentiments  he  has  uttered,  on  soil 
consecrated  by  the  prayers  of  Puritans  and  the  blood 
of  patriots,  the  earth  should  have  yawned  and  swal 
lowed  him  up! 

Allusion  has  been  made  to  what  lawyers  understand 
very  well — the  "conflict  of  laws."  We  are  told  that 
nothing  but  the  Mississippi  River  runs  between  St. 
Louis  and  Alton;  and  the  conflict  of  laws  somehow  or 
other  gives  the  citizens  of  the  former  a  right  to  find 
fault  with  the  defender  of  the  press  for  publishing  his 
opinions  so  near  their  limits.  Will  the  gentleman  ven 
ture  that  argument  before  lawyers  ?  How  the  laws  of 
the  two  states  could  be  said  to  come  into  conflict  in 
such  circumstances,  I  question  whether  any  lawyer  in 


WENDELL     PHILLIPS 181 

this  audience  can  explain  or  understand.  No  matter 
whether  the  line  that  divides  one  sovereign  State  from 
another  be  an  imaginary  one  or  ocean  wide,  the  mo 
ment  you  cross  it,  the  State  you  leave  is  blotted  out  of 
existence,  so  far  as  you  are  concerned.  The  Czar  might 
as  well  claim  to  control  the  deliberations  of  Faneuil 
Hall,  as  the  laws  of  Missouri  demand  reverence,  or 
the  shadow  of  obedience,  from  an  inhabitant  of  Illinois. 
CJ  Sir,  as  I  understand  this  affair,  it  was  not  an  indi 
vidual  protecting  his  property ;  it  was  not  one  body  of 
armed  men  assaulting  another,  and  making  the  streets 
of  a  peaceful  city  run  blood  with  their  contentions.  It 
did  not  bring  back  the  scenes  in  some  old  Italian  cities, 
where  family  met  family,  and  faction  met  faction,  and 
mutually  trampled  the  laws  under  foot.  No  ;  the  men 
in  that  house  were  regularly  enrolled  under  the  sanc 
tion  of  the  mayor.  There  being  no  militia  in  Alton, 
about  seventy  men  were  enrolled  with  the  approba 
tion  of  the  mayor.  These  relieved  each  other  every 
other  night.  About  thirty  men  were  in  arms  on  the 
night  of  the  sixth,  when  the  press  was  landed.  The 
next  evening  it  was  not  thought  necessary  to  sum 
mon  more  than  half  that  number ;  among  these  was 
Lovejoy.  It  was,  therefore,  you  perceive,  Sir,  the  police 
of  the  city  resisting  rioters — civil  government  breast 
ing  itself  to  the  shock  of  lawless  men.  Here  is  no 
question  about  the  right  of  self-defence.  It  is,  in  fact, 
simply  this :  Has  the  civil  magistrate  a  right  to  put 
down  a  riot?  Some  persons  seem  to  imagine  that  an 
archy  existed  at  Alton  from  the  commencement  of 
these  disputes.  Not  at  all.  "  No  one  of  us,"  says  an  eye 
witness  and  a  comrade  of  Lovejoy,  "  has  taken  up  arms 
during  these  disturbances  but  at  the  command  of  the 
mayor."  Anarchy  did  not  settle  down  on  that  devoted 
city  till  Lovejoy  breathed  his  last.  Till  then  the  law, 


182 WENDELL     PHILLIPS 

represented  in  his  person,  sustained  itself  against  its 
foes.  When  he  fell,  civil  authority  was  trampled  under 
foot.  He  had  "  planted  himself  on  his  constitutional 
rights  " — appealed  to  the  laws — claimed  the  protection 
of  the  civil  authority — taken  refuge  under  "the  broad 
shield  of  the  Constitution.  When  through  that  he  was 
pierced  and  fell,  he  fell  but  one  sufferer  in  a  common 
catastrophe."  He  took  refuge  under  the  banner  of  lib 
erty — amid  its  folds;  and  when  he  fell,  its  glorious 
stars  and  stripes,  the  emblem  of  free  constitutions, 
around  which  cluster  so  many  heart-stirring  memories, 
were  blotted  out  in  the  martyr's  blood. 
If,  Sir,  I  had  adopted  what  are  called  peace  principles, 
I  might  lament  the  circumstances  of  this  case.  But  all 
of  you  who  believe,  as  I  do,  in  the  right  and  duty  of 
magistrates  to  execute  the  laws,  join  with  me  and 
brand  as  base  hypocrisy  the  conduct  of  those  who  as 
semble  year  after  year  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  to  fight 
over  battles  of  the  Revolution,  and  yet  "damn  with 
faint  praise,"  or  load  with  obloquy,  the  memory  of  this 
man,  who  shed  his  blood  in  defence  of  life,  liberty, 
and  the  freedom  of  the  press ! 

Imprudent  to  defend  the  freedom  of  the  press !  Why  ? 
Because  the  defence  was  unsuccessful  ?  Does  success 
gild  crime  into  patriotism,  and  want  of  it  change  heroic 
self-devotion  to  imprudence  ?  Was  Hampden  impru 
dent  when  he  drew  the  sword  and  threw  away  the 
scabbard  ?  Yet  he,  judged  by  that  single  hour,  was  un 
successful.  After  a  short  exile,  the  race  he  hated  sat 
again  upon  the  throne. 

Imagine  yourself  present  when  the  first  news  of  Bun 
ker  Hill  battle  reached  a  New  England  town.  The 
table  would  have  run  thus :  "  The  patriots  are  routed ; 
the  redcoats  victorious ;  Warren  lies  dead  upon  the 
field."  With  what  scorn  would  that  Tory  have  been 


WENDELL    PHILLIPS 183 

received,  who  should  have  charged  Warren  with  im 
prudence  !  who  should  have  said  that,  bred  as  a  phy 
sician,  he  was  "  out  of  place  "  in  the  battle,  and  "  died 
as  the  fool  dieth  !  "  [Great  applause.]  How  would  the 
intimation  have  been  received,  that  Warren  and  his 
associates  should  have  waited  a  better  time  ?  But,  if 
success  be  indeed  the  only  criterion  of  prudence,  Res- 
pice  finem — wait  till  the  end. 

Presumptuous  to  assert  the  freedom  of  the  press  on 
American  ground !  Is  the  assertion  of  such  freedom 
before  the  age  ?  So  much  before  the  age  as  to  leave 
one  no  right  to  make  it  because  it  displeases  the  com 
munity  ?  Who  invents  this  libel  on  his  country  ?  It  is 
this  very  thing  which  entitles  Lovejoy  to  greater 
praise ;  the  disputed  right  which  provoked  the  Revolu 
tion — taxation  without  representation — is  far  beneath 
that  for  which  he  died.  [Here  there  was  a  strong  and 
general  expression  of  disapprobation.]  One  word,  gen 
tlemen.  As  much  as  Thought  is  better  than  Money,  so 
much  is  the  cause  in  which  Lovejoy  died  nobler  than 
a  mere  question  of  taxes.  James  Otis  thundered  in  this 
hall  when  the  king  did  but  touch  his  Pocket.  Imagine, 
if  you  can,  his  indignant  eloquence  had  England  of 
fered  to  put  a  gag  upon  his  Lips.  [Great  applause.] 
The  question  that  stirred  the  Revolution  touched  our 
civil  interests.  This  concerns  us  not  only  as  citizens, 
but  as  immortal  beings.  Wrapped  up  in  its  fate,  saved 
or  lost  with  it,  are  not  only  the  voice  of  the  states 
man,  but  the  instructions  of  the  pulpit  and  the  progress 
of  our  faith. 

The  clergy  "marvelously  out  of  place"  where  free 
speech  is  battled  for — liberty  of  speech  on  national 
sins  ?  Does  the  gentlemen  remember  that  freedom  to 
preach  was  first  gained,  dragging  in  its  train  freedom 
to  print  ?  I  thank  the  clergy  here  present,  as  I  rever- 


1 84 


WENDELL     PHILLIPS 


ence  their  predecessors,  who  did  not  so  far  forget  their 
country  in  their  immediate  profession  as  to  deem  it 
duty  to  separate  themselves  from  the  struggle  of  '76 — 
the  Mayhews  and  the  Coopers — who  remembered  they 
were  citizens  before  they  were  clergymen.  *  *  *  * 
Q  I  am  glad,  Sir,  to  see  this  crowded  house.  It  is  good 
for  us  to  be  here.  When  liberty  is  in  danger,  Faneuil 
Hall  has  the  right,  it  is  her  duty,  to  strike  the  key-note 
of  these  United  States.  I  am  glad,  for  one  reason,  that 
remarks  such  as  those  to  which  I  have  alluded  have 
been  uttered  here.  The  passage  of  these  resolutions,  in 
spite  of  this  opposition,  led  by  the  Attorney-General 
of  the  Commonwealth,  will  show  more  clearly,  more 
decisively,  the  deep  indignation  with  which  Boston 
regards  this  outrage. 


TO   THE    HOMES    OF    GREAT    PHILOSOPHERS 


Vol.  XIV.   JANUARY,  1904.  No.  I 


By  ELBERT  HUBBARD 


Single  Copies,  25  cents  By  the  Year,  $3.00 


LITTLE  JOURNEYS 

By  Elbert  Hubbard  FOR   1904 

WILL     BE     TO     THE     HOMES     OF 

GREAT  PHILOSOPHERS 

THE  SUBJECTS  AS  FOLLOWS 

1  —Socrates  7— Ittmtanucl  Kant 

2 — Seneca  8 — Huguste  Comte 

3— Hristotle  9— Voltaire 

4 — JMarcus  Hurelius  i  o— Rerbert  Spencer 

5— Spinoza  i 1—  Schopenhauer 

6 — Swedenborg  \z — Renry  Choreau 

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Little 
Journeys 

TO   THE  HOMES   OF 

Great 
Philosophers 

Socrates 

WRITTEN  BY  ELBERT 
HUBBARD  AND  DONE 
INTO  A  BOOK  BY  THE 
ROYCROFTERS,  AT 
THEIR  SHOP,  WHICH 
IS  IN  EAST  AURORA, 
NEW  YORK,  MCMIV 


JH 


I  DO  not  think  it  possible  for  a  better  man  to  be  injured  by  a  worse. 
*  *  *  *  To  a  good  man  nothing  is  evil,  neither  while  living  nor 
when  dead,  nor  are  his  concerns  neglected  by  the  gods. 

THE  REPUBLIC. 


Socrates 


CRATES 


|T  was  four  hundred  and  seventy  years 
before  Christ  that  Socrates  was  born. 
He  never  wrote  a  book,  never  made  a 
formal  address,  held  no  public  office, 
wrote  no  letters,  yet  his  words  have 
come  down  to  us  sharp,  vivid  and  crys 
talline.  His  face,  form  and  features  are 
to  us  familiar — his  goggle  eyes,  bald 
head,  snub  nose  and  bow  legs!  The 
habit  of  his  life — his  goings  and  comings, 
his  arguments  and  wrangles,  his  in 
finite  leisure,  his  sublime  patience,  his 
perfect  faith — all  these  things  are  plain, 
lifting  the  man  out  of  the  commonplace 
and  setting  him  apart. 
The  "  Memorabilia"  of  Xenophon  and 
the  "  Dialogues"  of  Plato  give  us  Bos- 
wellian  pictures  of  the  man. 
Knowing  the  man,  we  know  what  he 
would  do ;  and  knowing  what  he  did,  we 
know  the  man. 

Socrates  was  the  son  of  Sophroniscus, 
a  stone-cutter,  and  his  wife  Phaenarete. 
In  boyhood  he  used  to  carry  dinner  to 
his  father,  and  sitting  by,  he  heard  the 
men,  in  their  free  and  easy  way,  discuss 
the  plans  of  Pericles.  These  workmen 
didn't  know  the  plans — they  were  only 
privates  in  the  ranks,  but  they  exer- 


SOCRATES 


cised  their  prerogatives  to  criticize,  and  while  working 
to  assist,  did  right  royally  disparage  and  condemn.  Like 
sailors  who  love  their  ship,  and  grumble  at  grub  and 
grog,  yet  on  shore  will  allow  no  word  of  disparage 
ment  to  be  said,  so  did  these  Athenians  love  their  city, 
and  still  condemn  its  rulers — they  exercised  the  laborer' s 
right  to  damn  the  man  who  gives  him  work. 
Little  did  the  workmen  guess — little  did  his  father 
guess — that  this  pug-nosed  boy,  making  pictures  in  the 
sand  with  his  big  toe,  would  also  leave  his  footprints 
on  the  sands  of  time,  and  a  name  that  would  rival  that 
of  Phidias  and  Pericles  ! 

Socrates  was  a  product  of  the  Greek  renaissance. 
Great  men  come  in  groups,  like  comets  sent  from  afar. 
Athens  was  seething  with  thought  and  feeling :  Pericles 
was  giving  his  annual  oration  —  worth  thousands  of 
weekly  sermons — and  planning  his  dream  in  marble ; 
Phidias  was  cutting  away  the  needless  portions  of  the 
white  stone  of  Pentelicus  and  liberating  wondrous 
forms  of  beauty ;  Sophocles  was  revealing  the  possi 
bilities  of  the  stage ;  ^schylus  was  pointing  out  the 
way  as  a  playwright,  and  the  passion  for  physical  beauty 
was  everywhere  an  adjunct  of  religion. 
Pre-natal  influences,  it  seems,  played  their  part  in 
shaping  the  destiny  of  Socrates.  His  mother  followed 
the  profession  of  Sairy  Gamp,  and  made  her  home  with 
a  score  of  families,  as  she  was  needed.  The  trained 
nurse  is  often  untrained,  and  is  a  regular  encyclopedia 
of  esoteric  family  facts.  She  wipes  her  mouth  on  her 


SOCRATES 3 

apron  and  is  at  home  in  every  room  of  the  domicile  from 
parlor  to  pantry.  Then  as  now  she  knew  the  trials  and 
troubles  of  her  clients,  and  all  domestic  underground 
happenings  requiring  adjustment  she  looked  after  as 
she  was  "dispoged." 

Evidently  Phsenarete  was  possessed  of  considerable 
personality,  for  we  hear  of  her  being  called  to  Mythseia 
on  a  professional  errand  shortly  before  the  birth  of 
Socrates;  and  in  a  month  after  his  birth,  a  similar  call 
came  from  another  direction,  and  the  bald  little  philos 
opher  was  again  taken  along — from  which  we  assume, 
following  in  the  footsteps  of  Conan  Doyle,  that  Soc 
rates  was  no  bottle  baby.  The  world  should  be  grateful 
to  Phsenarete  that  she  did  not  honor  the  Sairy  Gamp 
precedents  and  observe  the  Platonic  maxim,  "Sandal- 
makers  usually  go  barefoot : ' '  she  gave  her  customers 
an  object  lesson  in  well-doing  as  well  as  teaching  them 
by  precept.  None  of  her  clients  did  so  well  as  she — 
even  though  her  professional  duties  were  so  exacting 
that  domesticity  to  her  was  merely  incidental.  It  was 
only  another  case  of  the  amateur  distancing  the  pro 
fessional. 


FROM  babyhood  we  lose  sight  of  Socrates  until 
we  find  him  working  at  his  father's  trade  as  a 
sculptor.  Certainly  he   had  a  goodly  degree  of 
skill,  for  the  "Graces"  which  he  carved  were  fair  and 
beautiful  and  admired  by  many.  This  was  enough,  he 


SOCRATES 


just  wanted  to  reveal  what  he  could  do,  and  then  to 
show  that  to  have  no  ambition  was  his  highest  ambi 
tion,  he  threw  down  his  tools  and  took  off  his  apron  for 
good.  He  was  then  thirty-five  years  old.  Art  is  a  zeal 
ous  mistress,  and  demands  that  "thou  shalt  have  no 
other  gods  before  me."  Socrates  did  not  concentrate  on 
art.  His  mind  went  roaming  the  world  of  philosophy, 
and  for  his  imagination  the  universe  was  hardly  large 
enough. 

I  said  that  he  deliberately  threw  down  his  tools;  but 
possibly  this  was  by  request,  for  he  had  acquired  a 
habit  of  engaging  in  much  wordy  argument  and  letting 
the  work  slide.  He  went  out  upon  the  streets  to  talk, 
and  in  the  guise  of  a  learner,  he  got  in  close  touch  with 
all  the  wise  men  of  Athens  by  stopping  them  and  ask 
ing  questions.  In  physique  he  was  immensely  strong — 
hard  work  had  developed  his  muscles,  plain  fare  had 
made  him  oblivious  to  the  fact  that  he  had  a  stomach, 
and  as  for  nerves,  he  had  none  to  speak  of. 
Socrates  did  not  marry  until  he  was  about  forty.  His 
wife  was  scarcely  twenty.  Of  his  courtship  we  know 
nothing,  but  sure  it  is  Socrates  did  not  go  and  sue  for 
the  lady's  hand  in  the  conventional  way,  nor  seek  to 
gain  the  consent  of  her  parents  by  proving  his  worldly 
prospects.  His  apparel  was  costly  as  his  purse  could 
buy,  not  gaudy  nor  expressed  in  fancy.  It  consisted  of 
the  one  suit  that  he  wore,  for  we  hear  of  his  repairing 
beyond  the  walls  to  bathe  in  the  stream,  and  of  his 
washing  his  clothing,  hanging  it  on  the  bushes  and 


SOCRATES 5 

waiting  for  it  to  dry  before  going  back  to  the  city.  As  for 
shoes,  he  had  one  pair,  and  since  he  never  once  wore 
them,  going  barefoot  summer  and  winter,  it  is  presumed 
that  they  lasted  well.  One  cannot  imagine  Socrates  in 
an  opera  hat — in  fact,  he  wore  no  hat,  and  he  was  bald. 
I  record  the  fact  so  as  to  confound  those  zealous  ones 
who  badger  the  bald  as  a  business,  who  have  recipes 
concealed  on  their  persons,  and  who  assure  us  that 
baldness  has  its  rise  in  head-gear. 

Socrates  belonged  to  the  leisure  class.  His  motto  was, 
KNOW  THYSELF.  He  considered  himself  of  much 
more  importance  than  any  statue  he  could  make,  and  to 
get  acquainted  with  himself  as  being  much  more  de 
sirable  than  to  know  physical  phenomena.  His  plan  of 
knowing  himself  was  to  ask  everybody  questions,  and 
in  their  answers  he  would  get  a  true  reflection  of  his 
own  mind.  His  intellect  would  reply  to  theirs,  and  if 
his  questions  dissolved  their  answers  into  nothingness, 
the  supremacy  of  his  own  being  would  be  apparent ;  and 
if  they  proved  his  folly  he  was  equally  grateful — if  he 
was  a  fool,  his  desire  was  to  know  it.  So  sincere  was 
Socrates  in  this  wish  to  know  himself  that  never  did  he 
show  the  slightest  impatience  nor  resentment  when  the 
argument  was  turned  upon  him. 

He  looked  upon  his  mind  as  a  second  party,  and  sat  off 
and  watched  it  work.  Should  it  become  confused  or 
angered,  it  would  be  proof  of  its  insufficiency  and  little 
ness.  If  Socrates  ever  came  to  know  himself,  he  knew 
this  fact :  as  an  economic  unit  he  was  an  absolute  fail- 


SOCRATES 


ure;  but  as  a  gadfly,  stinging  men  into  thinking  for 
themselves,  he  was  a  success.  A  specialist  is  a  deformity 
contrived  by  Nature  to  get  the  work  done.  Socrates 
was  a  thought-specialist,  and  the  laziest  man  who  ever 
lived  in  a  strenuous  age.  The  desire  of  his  life  was  to 
live  without  desire — which  is  essentially  the  thought 
of  Nirvana.  He  had  the  power  never  to  exercise  his 
power  excepting  in  knowing  himself. 
He  accepted  every  fact,  circumstance  and  experience 
of  life,  and  counted  it  gain.  Life  to  him  was  a  precious 
privilege,  and  what  were  regarded  as  unpleasant  expe 
riences  were  as  much  a  part  of  life  as  the  pleasant  ones. 
He  who  succeeds  in  evading  unpleasant  experiences 
cheats  himself  out  of  so  much  life.  You  know  yourself 
by  watching  yourself  to  see  what  you  do  when  you  are 
thwarted,  crossed,  contradicted,  or  deprived  of  certain 
things  supposed  to  be  desirable.  If  you  always  get  the 
desirable  things,  how  do  you  know  what  you  would  do 
if  you  didn't  have  them?  You  exchange  so  much  life 
for  the  thing,  that's  all,  and  thus  do  we  see  Socrates 
anticipating  Emerson's  Essay  on  Compensation.  Every 
thing  is  bought  with  a  price — all  things  are  of  equal 
value — no  one  can  cheat  you,  for  to  be  cheated  is  a  not 
undesirable  experience,  and  in  the  act,  if  you  are  really 
filled  with  the  thought,  "  Know  Thyself,"  you  get  the 
compensation  by  an  increase  in  mental  growth. 
However,  to  deliberately  go  in  search  of  experience, 
Socrates  said,  would  be  a  mistake,  because  then  you 
would  so  multiply  impressions  that  none  would  be  of 


SOCRATES 


any  avail  and  your  life  would  be  burned  out.  To  clutch 
life  by  the  throat  and  demand  that  it  shall  stand  and 
deliver  is  to  place  yourself  so  out  of  harmony  with  your 
environment  that  you  will  get  nothing. 
Above  all  things,  we  must  be  calm,  self-centered,  never 
anxious,  and  be  always  ready  to  accept  whatever  the 
gods  may  send.  The  world  will  come  to  us  if  we  only 
wait.  It  will  be  seen  that  Socrates  is  at  once  the  oldest 
and  most  modern  of  thinkers.  He  was  the  first  to  ex 
press  the  New  Thought.  A  thought,  to  Socrates,  was 
more  of  a  reality  than  a  block  of  marble — a  moral  prin 
ciple  was  just  as  persistent  as  a  chemical  agent. 


THE  silken-robed  and  perfumed  Sophist  was  sport 
and  game  for  Socrates.  For  him  Socrates  recog 
nized  no  closed  season.  If  Socrates  ever  came 
near  losing  his  temper,  it  was  in  dealing  with  this  Ed 
mund  Russell  of  Athens.  Grant  Allen  used  to  say,  "  The 
spores  of  everything  are  everywhere  and  a  certain  con 
dition  breeds  a  certain  microbe."  A  period  of  prosperity 
always  warms  into  life  this  social  paragon  who  lives  in 
a  darkened  room  hung  with  maroon  drapery,  where 
incense  is  burned  and  a  turbaned  Hindoo  carries  your 
card  to  the  master,  who  faces  the  sun  and  exploits  a 
prie-dieu  when  the  wind  blows  East.  Athens  had  these 
men  of  refined  elegance,  Rome  evolved  them,  London 
has  had  her  day,  New  York  knows  them,  and  Chicago 
—I  trust  I  will  not  be  contradicted  when  I  say  that 


8 SOCRATES 

Chicago  understands  her  business !  And  so  we  find  these 
folks  who  cultivate  a  pellucid  passivity,  a  phthisicky 
whisper,  a  supercilious  smirk,  and  who  win  our  smoth 
ered  admiration  and  give  us  goose-flesh  by  imparting  a 
taubric  tinge  of  mystery  to  all  their  acts  and  words,  thus 
proving  to  the  assembled  guests  that  they  are  the  Qual 
ity,  and  Wisdom  will  die  with  them. 
This  lingo  of  meaningless  words  and  high-born  phrases 
always  set  Socrates  by  the  ears,  and  when  he  would 
corner  a  Sophist,  he  would  very  shortly  prick  his  pretty 
toy  balloon,  until  at  last  the  tribe  fled  him  as  a  pesti 
lence.  Socrates  stood  for  sanity.  The  Sophist  repre 
sented  moonshine  gone  to  seed,  and  these  things, 
proportioned  ill,  drive  men  transverse. 
Extremes  equalize  themselves :  the  pendulum  swings 
as  far  this  way  as  it  does  that.  The  saponaceous  Soph 
ist  who  renounced  the  world  and  yet  lived  wholly  in  a 
world  of  sense,  making  vacuity  pass  legal-tender  for 
spirituality,  and  the  priest  who,  mystified  with  a 
mumble  of  words,  evolved  a  Diogenes  who  lived  in  a 
tub,  wore  regally  a  robe  of  rags,  and  once  went  into  the 
temple,  and  cracking  a  louse  on  the  altar  rail,  said 
solemnly,  "  Thus  does  Diogenes  sacrifice  to  all  the  gods 
at  once!"  Q  In  Socrates  was  a  little  jollity  and  much 
wisdom  pickled  in  the  scorn  of  Fortune ;  but  the  Soph 
ists  inwardly  bowed  down  and  worshiped  the  fickle 
dame  on  idolatrous  knees.  Socrates  won  immortality 
because  he  did  not  want  it,  and  the  Sophists  secured 
oblivion  because  they  deserved  it. 


SOCRATES 


WE  hear  of  Socrates  going  to  Aspasia,  and 
holding  long  conversations  with  her  "to 
sharpen  his  mind."  Aspasia  did  not  go  out  in 
society  much,  she  and  Pericles  lived  very  simply.  It  is 
worth  while  to  remember  that  the  most  intellectual 
woman  of  her  age  was  democratic  enough  to  be  on 
friendly  terms  with  the  bare-foot  philosopher  who  went 
about  regally  wrapped  in  a  table-spread.  Socrates  did 
not  realize  the  flight  of  time  when  making  calls — he 
went  early  and  stayed  late.  Possibly  pre-natal  influences 
caused  him  to  often  call  before  breakfast  and  remain 
until  after  supper. 

Just  imagine  Pericles,  Aspasia  and  Socrates  sitting  at 
table — with  'Walter  Savage  Landor  behind  the  arras 
making  notes !  Doubtless  Socrates  and  Mrs.  Pericles 
did  most  of  the  talking,  while  the  First  Citizen  of 
Athens  listened  and  smiled  indulgently  now  and  then 
as  his  mind  wandered  to  construction  contracts  and 
walking  delegates.  Pericles,  the  builder  of  a  city — Peri 
cles,  first  among  practical  men  since  time  began,  and 
Socrates,  who  jostles  history  for  first  place  among 
those,  have  done  nothing  but  talk — imagine  these  two 
eating  melons  together,  while  Aspasia,  gentle  and  kind, 
talks  of  spirit  being  more  than  matter  and  love  being 
greater  than  the  Parthenon ! 

Socrates  is  usually  spoken  of  as  regarding  women  with 
slight  favor,  but  I  have  noticed  that  your  genus  woman- 
hater  holds  the  balance  true  by  really  being  a  woman- 
lover.  If  a  man  is  enough  interested  in  women  to  hate 


io SOCRATES 

them,  note  this,  he  is  only  searching  for  the  right 
woman,  the  woman  who  compares  favorably  with  the 
ideal  woman  in  his  own  mind.  He  measures  every  wom 
an  by  this  standard,  just  as  Ruskin  compared  all 
modern  painters  with  Turner  and  discarded  them  with 
fitting  adjectives  as  they  receded  from  what  he  regard 
ed  as  the  perfect  type.  If  Ruskin  had  not  been  much 
interested  in  painters,  would  he  have  written  scathing 
criticisms  about  them  ? 

In  several  instances  we  hear  of  Socrates  reminding  his 
followers  that  they  are  "weak  as  women,"  and  he  was 
the  first  to  say  "woman  is  an  undeveloped  man."  But 
Socrates  was  a  great  admirer  of  human  beauty,  whether 
physical  or  spiritual,  and  his  abrupt  way  of  stopping 
beautiful  women  on  the  streets  and  bluntly  telling  them 
they  were  beautiful,  doubtless  often  confirmed  their 
suspicions.  And  thus  far  he  was  pleasing,  but  when  he 
went  on  to  ask  questions  so  as  to  ascertain  whether 
their  mental  estate  compared  with  their  physical,  why, 
that  was  slightly  different.  It  is  good  to  hear  him  say, 
"there  is  no  sex  in  intellect,"  and  also,  "I  have  long 
held  the  opinion  that  the  female  sex  is  nothing  inferior 
to  ours,  save  only  in  strength  of  body  and  possibly  in 
steadiness  of  judgment."  And  Xenophon  quotes  him 
thus, — "It  is  more  delightful  to  hear  the  virtue  of  a 
good  woman  described,  than  if  the  painter  Zeuxis  were 
to  show  me  the  portrait  of  the  fairest  woman  in  the 
world." 
Perhaps  Thackeray  is  right  when  he  says,  "The  men 


SOCRATES « 

who  appreciate  woman  most  are  those  who  have  felt 
the  sharpness  of  her  claws."  That  is  to  say,  things  show 
up  best  on  the  darkest  background.  If  so,  let  us  give 
Xantippe  due  credit.  She  tested  the  temper  of  the  sage 
by  railing  on  him  and  deluging  him  with  Socratic 
propositions,  not  waiting  for  the  answers;  she  often 
broke  in  with  a  broom  upon  his  introspective  efforts  to 
know  himself;  if  this  were  not  enough,  she  dashed 
buckets  of  scrubbing  water  over  him;  presents  that 
were  sent  him  by  admiring  friends  she  used  as  targets 
for  her  mop  and  wit ;  if  he  invited  friends  with  faith  plus 
to  dine,  she  upset  the  table,  dishes  and  all,  before  them 
— not  much  to  their  loss;  she  occasionally  elbowed  her 
way  through  a  crowd  where  her  husband  was  enter 
taining  the  listeners  upon  the  divine  harmonies,  and 
would  tear  off  his  robe  and  lead  him  home  by  the  ear. 
But  these  things  never  ruffled  Socrates — he  might  roll 
his  eyes  in  comic  protest  at  the  audience  as  he  was  be 
ing  led  away  captive,  but  no  resentment  was  shown. 
He  had  the  strength  of  a  Hercules,  but  he  was  a  far 
better  non-resistant  than  Tolstoy,  because  he  took  his 
medicine  with  a  wink,  while  Fate  is  obliged  to  hold 
the  nose  of  the  author  of  "  Anna  Karenina,"  who  never 
sees  the  comedy  of  an  inward  struggle  and  an  outward 
compliance,  any  more  than  does  the  benedict,  safely 
entrenched  under  the  bed,  who  shouts  out,  "I  defy 
thee,  I  defy  thee  !  "  as  did  Mephisto  when  Goethe  thrust 
him  into  Tophet. 


SOCRATES 


THE  popular  belief  is  that  Xantippe,  the  wife  of 
Socrates,  was  a  shrew,  and  had  she  lived  in  New 
England  in  Cotton  Mather's  time  would  have 
been  a  candidate  for  the  ducking-stool.  Socrates  said  he 
married  her  for  discipline.  A  man  in  East  Aurora,  how 
ever,  has  recently  made  it  plain  to  himself  that  Xan 
tippe  was  possessed  of  a  great  and  acute  intellect.  She 
knew  herself,  and  she  knew  her  liege  as  he  never  did  — 
he  was  too  close  to  his  subject  to  get  the  perspective. 
She  knew  that  under  the  right  conditions  his  name 
would  live  as  one  of  the  world's  great  teachers,  and  so 
she  set  herself  to  supply  the  conditions.  She  deliber 
ately  sacrificed  herself  and  put  her  character  in  a  wrong 
light  before  the  world  in  order  that  she  might  benefit 
the  world.  Most  women  have  a  goodly  grain  of  ambition 
for  themselves,  and  if  their  husbands  have  genius,  their 
business  is  not  to  prove  it,  but  to  show  that  they  them 
selves  are  not  wholly  commonplace. 
Not  so  Xantippe  —  she  was  quite  willing  to  be  misun 
derstood  that  her  husband  might  live. 
'What  the  world  calls  a  happy  marriage  is  not  wholly 
good  —  ease  is  bought  -with  a  price.  Suppose  Xantippe 
and  Socrates  had  settled  down  and  lived  in  a  cottage 
with  a  vine  growing  over  the  portico,  and  two  rows  of 
hollyhocks  leading  from  the  front  gate  to  the  door  ;  a 
pathway  of  coal  ashes  lined  off  with  broken  crockery, 
and  inside  the  house  all  sweet,  clean  and  tidy;  Socrates 
earning  six  drachma  a  day  carving  marble,  with  double 
pay  for  overtime,  and  he  handing  the  pay  envelope  over 


SOCRATES         13 

to  her  each  Saturday  night,  keeping  out  just  enough  for 
tobacco,  and  she  putting  a  tidy  sum  in  the  /Egean  Sav 
ings  Bank  every  month — why,  what  then  ? 
Well,  that  would  have  been  an  end  to  Socrates.  Xan- 
tippe  was  big  enough  to  know  this  and  so  she  supplied 
the  domestic  cantharides,  and  drove  him  out  upon  the 
streets — he  grew  to  care  very  little  for  her,  not  much 
for  the  children,  nothing  for  his  home.  She  drove  him 
out  into  the  world  of  thought,  instead  of  allowing  him 
to  settle  down  and  be  content  with  her  society. 
I  once  knew  a  sculptor — another  sculptor — an  elemental 
bit  of  nature,  original  and,  better  still,  aboriginal.  He 
used  to  sleep  out  under  the  stars  so  to  wake  up  in  the 
night  and  see  the  march  of  the  Milky  Way,  and  watch 
the  Pleiades  disappear  over  the  brink  of  the  western 
horizon.  He  wore  a  flannel  shirt,  thick-soled  shoes,  and 
overalls,  no  hat,  and  his  hair  was  thick  and  coarse  as 
a  horse's  mane.  This  man  had  talent,  and  he  had  sub 
lime  conceptions,  great  dreams,  and  splendid  aspira 
tions.  His  soul  was  struggling  to  find  expression. 
"  Leave  him  alone,"  I  said — "  He  needs  time  to  ripen. 
He  is  a  Michael  Angelo  in  embryo  !" 
Did  he  ripen  ?  Not  he.  He  married  a  Wellesley  girl  of 
good  family.  She,  too,  had  ideas  about  art — she  painted 
china  buttons  for  shirt-waists,  embroidered  chasubles, 
and  sang  "The  Rosary"  in  a  raucous  Quinsigamond 
voice.  The  big  barbarian  became  respectable,  and  the 
last  time  I  saw  him  he  wore  a  Tuxedo  and  was  passing 
out  platitudes  and  raspberry  shrub  at  a  lawn  party. 


14 SOCRATES 

The  Wellesley  girl  had  tamed  her  bear — they  were  very 
happy,  he  assured  me,  and  she  was  preparing  a  course 
of  lectures  for  him  which  he  was  to  give  at  Mrs.  Jack 
Gardner's.  A  Xantippe  might  have  saved  him. 


A  CAPTIOUS  friend  once  suggested  to  Socrates, 
this:  "  If  you  prize  the  female  nature  so  highly, 
how  does  it  happen  that  you  do  not  instruct 
Xantippe?" — a  rather  indelicate  proposition  to  put  to 
a  married  man.  And  Socrates,  quite  unruffled,  replied, 
"  My  friend,  if  one  wants  to  learn  horsemanship,  does 
he  choose  a  tame  horse  or  one  with  mettle  and  a  hard 
mouth  ?  I  wish  to  converse  with  all  sorts  of  people,  and 
I  believe  that  nothing  can  disturb  me  after  I  grow  ac 
customed  to  the  tongue  of  Xantippe." 
Again  we  hear  of  his  suggesting  that  his  wife's  scold 
ing  tongue  may  have  been  only  the  buzzing  of  his  own 
waspish  thoughts,  and  if  he  did  not  call  forth  these  qual 
ities  in  her  they  would  not  otherwise  have  appeared. 
And  so,  beholding  her  impatience  and  unseemliness,  he 
would  realize  the  folly  of  an  ill  temper  and  thus  learn  by 
antithesis  to  curb  his  own.  Old  Dr.  Johnson  used  to  have 
a  regular  menagerie  of  wrangling,  jangling,  quibbling, 
dissatisfied  pensioners  in  his  household ;  and  so  far  as 
we  know  he  never  learned  the  truth  that  all  pensioners 
are  dissatisfied.  "  If  I  can  stand  things  at  home,  I  can 
stand  things  anywhere,"  he  once  said  to  Boswell,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "  If  I  can  stand  things  at  home,  I  can 


SOCRATES 15 

stand  even  you."  Goldsmith  referred  to  Boswell  as  a 
cur,  Garrick  said  he  thought  he  was  a  burr.  Socrates 
had  a  similar  satellite  by  the  name  of  Cheropho,  a  dark, 
dirty,  weazened,  and  awfully  serious  little  man  of  the 
tribe  of  Buttinsky,  who  sat  breathlessly  trying  to  catch 
the  pearls  that  fell  from  the  ample  mouth  of  the  phi 
losopher.  Aristophanes  referred  to  Cheropho  as  "  Soc 
rates'  bat,"  a  play-off  on  Minerva  and  her  bird  of  night, 
the  owl.  There  were  quite  a  number  of  these  ''bats," 
and  they  seemed  to  labor  under  the  same  hallucination 
that  catches  the  lady  students  of  the  Pundit  Vivake- 
nanda  H.  Darmapala:  they  think  that  wisdom  is  to  be 
imparted  by  word  of  mouth,  and  that  by  listening  hard 
and  making  notes  one  can  become  very  wise.  Socrates 
said  again  and  again,  "  Character  is  a  matter  of  growth 
and  all  I  hope  to  do  is  to  make  you  think  for  yourselves." 
Q  That  chilly  exclusiveness  which  regards  a  man's 
house  as  his  castle,  his  home,  the  one  sacred  spot,  and 
all  outside  as  the  cold  and  cruel  world,  was  not  the  ideal 
of  Socrates.  His  family  was  his  circle  of  friends,  and 
these  were  of  all  classes  and  conditions,  from  the  First 
Citizen  to  beggars  on  the  street. 

He  made  no  charge  for  his  teaching,  took  up  no  collec 
tions,  and  never  inaugurated  a  Correspondence  School. 
America  has  produced  one  man  who  has  been  called 
a  reincarnation  of  Socrates  ;  that  man  was  Bronson 
Alcott,  who  peddled  clocks  and  forgot  the  flight  of  time 
whenever  any  one  would  listen  to  him  expound  the 
unities.  Alcott  once  ran  his  wheelbarrow  into  a  neigh- 


16 SOCRATES 

bor's  garden  and  was  proceeding  to  load  his  motor-car 
with  cabbages,  beets  and  potatoes.  Glancing  up,  the 
philosopher  saw  the  owner  of  the  garden  looking  at  him 
steadfastly  over  the  wall.  "  Don't  look  at  me  that  way," 
called  Alcott  with  a  touch  of  un-Socratic  acerbity, 
"  Don't  look  at  me  that  way — I  need  these  things  more 
than  you! "  and  went  on  with  the  annexation. 
The  idea  that  all  good  things  are  for  use  and  belong  to 
all  who  need  them,  was  a  favorite  maxim  of  Socrates. 
The  furniture  in  his  house  never  exceeded  the  exemp 
tion  clause.  Once  we  find  him  saying  that  Xantippe 
complained  because  he  did  not  buy  her  a  stew-pan,  but 
since  there  was  nothing  to  put  in  it,  he  thought  her 
protests  ill-founded. 

The  climate  of  Athens  is  about  like  that  of  Southern 
California — one  does  not  need  to  bank  food  and  fuel 
against  the  coming  of  winter.  Life  can  be  adjusted  to 
its  simplest  forms.  From  his  fortieth  to  his  fiftieth  year, 
Socrates  worked  every  other  Thursday;  then  he  re 
tired  from  active  life,  and  Xantippe  took  in  plain  sew 
ing  *r  ir 

Socrates  was  surely  not  a  good  provider,  but  if  he  had 
provided  more  for  his  family,  he  would  have  provided 
less  for  the  world.  The  wealthy  Crito  would  have 
turned  his  pockets  inside  out  for  Socrates,  but  Socrates 
had  all  he  wished,  and  explained  that  as  it  was  he  had 
to  dance  at  home  in  order  to  keep  down  the  adipose. 
Aristides,  who  was  objectionable  because  he  so  shaped 
his  conduct  that  he  was  called  "The  Just,"  and  got 


SOCRATES 17 

himself  ostracised,  was  one  of  his  dear  friends.  Antis- 
thenes,  the  original  Cynic,  used  to  walk  six  miles  and 
back  every  day  to  hear  Socrates  talk.  The  Cynic  was  a 
rich  man,  but  so  captivated  was  he  with  the  preaching 
of  Socrates,  that  he  adopted  the  life  of  simplicity  and 
dressed  in  rags,  boycotting  both  the  barber  and  the 
bath.  On  one  occasion  Socrates  looked  sharply  at  a 
rent  in  the  cloak  of  his  friend  and  said,  "Ah,  Antisthenes, 
through  that  hole  in  your  cloak  I  see  your  vanity ! ' ' 
Xenophon  sat  at  the  feet  of  Socrates  for  a  score  of 
years,  and  then  wrote  his  recollections  of  him  as  a  vin 
dication  of  his  character.  Euclid  of  Megara  was  nearly 
eighty  when  he  came  to  Socrates  as  a  pupil,  trying  to 
get  rid  of  his  ill  temper  and  habit  of  ironical  reply.  Cebes 
and  Simmias  left  their  native  country  and  became  Greek 
citizens  for  his  sake.  Charmides,  the  pampered  son  of 
wealthy  parents,  learned  pedagogics  by  being  shown 
that  in  households  where  there  were  many  servants, 
the  children  got  cheated  out  of  their  rightful  education 
because  others  did  all  the  work,  and  to  deprive  a 
child  of  the  privilege  of  being  useful  was  to  rob  him  of 
so  much  life.  ./Eschines,  the  ambitious  son  of  a  sausage- 
maker,  was  advised  by  Socrates  to  borrow  money  of 
himself  on  long  time  without  interest,  by  reducing  his 
wants.  So  pleased  was  the  recipient  with  this  advice, 
that  he  went  to  publishing  Socratic  dialogues  as  a  busi 
ness,  and  had  the  felicity  to  fail  with  tidy  liabilities. 
But  the  two  men  who  loom  largest  in  the  life  of  Socrates 
are  Alcibiades  and  Plato — characters  very  much  unlike. 


is SOCRATES 

Q  Alcibiades  was  twenty-one  years  old  when  we  find 
him  first.  He  was  considered  the  handsomest  young 
man  in  Athens.  He  was  aristocratic,  proud,  insolent, 
and  needlessly  rich.  He  had  a  passion  for  gambling, 
horse-racing,  dog-fighting,  and  indulged  in  the  churchly 
habit  of  doing  that  which  he  ought  not  and  leaving  un 
done  that  which  he  should  have  done.  He  was  worse 
than  that  degenerate  scion  of  a  proud  ancestry,  who 
a-knieppeing  went  with  his  lady  friends  in  the  Cincinnati 
fountain,  after  the  opera,  on  a  wager.  He  whipped  a 
man  who  admitted  he  did  not  have  a  copy  of  the ' '  Iliad ' ' 
in  his  house ;  publicly  destroyed  the  record  of  a  charge 
against  one  of  his  friends;  and  when  his  wife  applied 
for  a  divorce,  he  burst  into  the  court-room  and  vacated 
proceedings  by  carrying  the  lady  off  by  force.  At  ban 
quets  he  would  raise  a  disturbance,  and  while  he  was 
being  forcibly  ejected  from  one  door,  his  servants  would 
sneak  in  another  and  steal  the  silver-ware,  which  he 
would  give  away  as  charity.  He  also  indulged  in  the 
Mark  Antony  trick  of  rushing  into  houses  at  night  and 
pulling  good  folks  out  of  bed  by  the  heels,  and  then  run 
ning  away  before  they  were  barely  awake. 
His  introduction  to  Socrates  came  in  an  attempt  to 
break  up  a  Socratic  prayer-meeting.  Socrates  succeeded 
in  getting  the  roysterer  to  listen  long  enough  to  turn 
the  laugh  on  him  and  show  all  concerned  that  the  life 
of  a  rowdy  was  the  life  of  a  fool.  Alcibiades  had  ex 
pected  Socrates  to  lose  his  temper,  but  it  was  Alcibiades 
who  gave  way,  and  blurted  out  that  he  could  not  hope 


SOCRATES 19 

to  beat  his  antagonist  talking,  but  he  would  like  to 
wrestle  with  him. 

Legend  has  it  that  Socrates  gave  the  insolent  young 
man  a  shock  by  instantly  accepting  his  challenge.  In 
the  bout  that  followed,  the  philosopher,  built  like  a  go 
rilla,  got  a  half- Nelson  on  his  man,  who  was  a  little  the 
worse  for  wine,  and  threw  him  so  hard,  jumping  on  his 
prostrate  form  with  his  knees,  that  the  aristocratic 
hoodlum  was  laid  up  for  a  moon.  Ever  after  Alcibiades 
had  a  thorough  respect  for  Socrates.  They  became  fast 
friends,  and  whenever  the  old  man  talked  in  the  Agora, 
Alcibiades  was  on  hand  to  keep  order. 
When  war  came  with  Sparta  and  her  allies  in  the  Pelo 
ponnesus  they  enlisted,  Socrates  going  as  corporal  and 
Alcibiades  as  captain.  They  occupied  the  same  tent 
during  the  entire  campaign.  Socrates  proved  a  fearless 
soldier  and  walked  the  winter  ice  in  bare  feet,  often  pull 
ing  his  belt  one  hole  tighter  in  lieu  of  breakfast,  to  show 
the  complaining  soldiers  that  endurance  was  the  thing 
that  won  the  battles.  At  the  battle  of  Delium,  when 
there  was  a  rout,  Xenophon  says  Socrates  walked  off 
the  field  leisurely,  arm  in  arm  with  the  general,  ex 
plaining  the  nature  of  harmony. 

Through  the  influence  of  Socrates,  the  lawless  Alci 
biades  was  tamed  and  became  almost  a  model  citizen, 
although  his  head  was  hardly  large  enough  for  a  phi 
losopher. 

"Say  what  you  will,  you'll  find  it  all  in  Plato,"  said 
Emerson.  If  Socrates  had  done  nothing  else  but  give 


20 SOCRATES 

bent  to  the  mind  of  Plato,  he  would  deserve  the  grati 
tude  of  the  centuries.  Plato  is  the  mine  to  which  all 
thinkers  turn  for  treasure.  When  they  first  met,  Plato 
was  twenty  and  Socrates  sixty,  and  for  ten  years,  to  the 
day  of  Socrates'  death,  they  were  together  almost  con 
stantly.  Plato  died  aged  eighty-one,  and  for  fifty  years 
he  had  lived  but  to  record  the  dialogues  of  Socrates.  It 
was  curiosity  that  first  attracted  this  fine  youth  to  the 
old  man — Socrates  was  so  uncouth  that  he  was  amus 
ing.  Plato  was  interested  in  politics,  and  like  most 
Athenian  youths,  was  intent  on  having  a  good  time. 
However,  he  was  no  rowdy,  like  Alcibiades ;  he  was 
suave,  gracious,  and  elegant  in  all  of  his  acts.  He  had 
been  taught  by  the  Sophists,  and  the  desire  of  his  life 
was  to  seem,  rather  than  to  be.  By  very  gentle  stages, 
Plato  began  to  perceive  that  to  make  an  impression  on 
society  was  not  worth  working  for — the  thing  to  do  was 
to  be  yourself,  and  yourself  at  your  best.  And  we  can 
give  no  better  answer  to  the  problem  of  life  than  Plato 
gives  in  the  words  of  Socrates,  "  It  is  better  to  be  than 
to  seem.  To  live  honestly  and  deal  justly  is  the  meat  of 
the  whole  matter." 

Plato  was  not  a  disciple — he  was  big  enough  not  to  ape 
the  manners  and  eccentricities  of  his  Master — he  saw, 
beneath  the  rough  husk  and  beyond  the  grotesque  out 
side,  the  great  controlling  purpose  in  the  life  of  Socrates. 
He  would  be  himself — and  himself  at  his  best,  and  he 
would  seek  to  satisfy  the  Voice  within,  rather  than  to 
try  to  please  the  populace.  Plato  still  wore  his  purple 


SOCRATES 21 

cloak,  and  the  elegance  and  grace  of  his  manner  were 
not  thrown  aside. 

"Wouldn't  it  have  been  worth  our  while  to  travel  miles 
to  see  these  friends — the  one  old,  bald,  short,  fat, 
squint-eyed,  bare-foot,  and  the  other  with  all  the  poise 
of  aristocratic  youth — tall,  courtly  and  handsome,  wear 
ing  his  robe  with  easy,  regal  grace.  And  so  they  have 
walked  and  talked  adown  the  centuries,  side  by  side, 
the  most  perfect  example  that  can  be  named  of  that  fine 
affection  which  often  exists  between  teacher  and 
scholar. 

Plato's  "  Republic,"  especially,  gives  us  an  insight  into 
a  very  great  &  lofty  character.  From  his  tower  of  spec 
ulation,  Plato  scanned  the  future,  &  saw  that  the  ideal  of 
education  was  to  have  it  continue  through  life,  for  none 
but  the  life  of  growth  and  development  ever  satisfies. 
And  love  itself  turns  to  ashes  of  roses  if  not  used  to 
help  the  soul  in  her  upward  flight.  It  was  Plato  who 
first  said,  "  There  is  no  profit  where  no  pleasure 's 
ta'en."  He  further  perceived  that  in  the  life  of  educa 
tion,  the  sexes  must  move  hand  in  hand ;  and  he  also 
saw  that  while  religions  are  many  and  seemingly  di 
verse,  that  goodness  and  kindness  are  forever  one. 
His  faith  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul  was  firm,  but 
whether  we  are  to  live  in  another  world  or  not,  he  said 
there  is  no  higher  wisdom  than  to  live  here  and  now — 
live  our  highest  and  best — cultivate  the  receptive  mind 
and  the  hospitable  heart,  "partaking  of  all  good  things 
in  moderation." 


22 SOCRATES 

It  takes  these  two  to  make  the  whole.  There  is  no  vir 
tue  in  poverty — no  merit  in  rags — the  uncouth  qualities 
in  Socrates  were  not  a  recommendation.  Yet  he  was 
himself.  But  Plato  made  good,  in  his  own  character,  all 
that  Socrates  lacked. Some  one  has  said  that  Fitzgerald's 
Omar  is  two-thirds  Fitzgerald  and  one-third  Omar.  In 
his  books,  Plato  modestly  puts  his  wisest  maxims  into 
the  mouth  of  his  master,  and  just  how  much  Plato  and 
how  much  Socrates  there  is  in  the  "Dialogues,"  we 
will  never  know  until  we  get  beyond  the  River  Styx. 


SOCRATES  was  deeply  attached  to  Athens,  and 
he  finally  became  the  best  known  figure  in  the 
city.  He  criticized  in  his  own  frank,  fearless  way 
all  the  doings  of  the  times — nothing  escaped  him.  He 
was  a  self-appointed  investigating  committee  in  all 
affairs  of  state,  society  and  religion.  Hypocrisy,  pretense, 
affectation,  and  ignorance  trembled  at  his  approach.  He 
was  feared,  despised  and  loved.  But  those  who  loved 
him  were  as  one  in  a  hundred.  He  became  a  public  nui 
sance.  The  charge  against  him  was  just  plain  heresy — 
he  had  spoken  disrespectfully  of  the  gods  and  through 
his  teaching  he  had  defiled  the  youth  of  Athens.  Ample 
warning  had  been  given  him,  and  opportunity  to  run 
away  was  provided,  but  he  stuck  like  a  leech,  asking  the 
cost  of  banquets  and  making  suggestions  about  all  public 
affairs. 
He  was  arrested,  bailed  by  Plato  and  Crito,  and  tried 


SOCRATES 23 

before  a  jury  of  five  hundred  citizens.  Socrates  insisted 
on  managing  his  own  case.  A  rhetorician  prepared  an 
address  of  explanation,  and  the  culprit  was  given  to  un 
derstand  that  if  he  read  this  speech  to  his  judges  and 
said  nothing  else,  it  would  be  considered  as  an  apology 
and  he  would  be  freed — the  intent  of  the  trial  being  more 
to  teach  the  old  man  a  lesson  in  minding  his  own  busi 
ness  than  to  injure  him. 

But  Socrates  replied  to  his  well-meaning  friend,  "  Think 
you  I  have  not  spent  my  whole  life  in  preparing  for  this 
one  thing?  "  And  he  handed  back  the  smoothly  polished 
manuscript  with  a  smile.  Montaigne  says,  "  Should  a 
suppliant  voice  have  been  heard  out  of  the  mouth  of 
Socrates  now ;  should  that  lofty  virtue  strike  sail  in  the 
very  height  of  its  glory,  and  his  rich  and  powerful  nature 
be  committed  to  flowing  rhetoric  as  a  defense  ?  Never ! ' ' 
Q[  Socrates  cross-questioned  his  accusers  in  the  true 
Socratic  style  and  showed  that  he  had  never  spoken 
disrespectfully  of  the  gods,  he  had  only  spoken  disre 
spectfully  of  their  absurd  conception  of  the  gods.  And 
here  is  a  thought  which  is  well  to  consider  even  yet : 
The  so-called  "infidel"  is  often  a  man  of  great  gentle 
ness  of  spirit,  and  his  disbelief  is  not  in  God,  but  in 
some  little  man's  definition  of  God — a  distinction  the 
little  man,  being  without  humor,  can  never  see. 
When  Socrates  had  confounded  his  accusers,  this  time 
not  giving  them  the  satisfaction  of  the  last  word,  he 
launched  out  on  a  general  criticism  of  the  city,  and  told 
where  its  rulers  were  gravely  at  fault.  Being  cautioned 


24 SOCRATES 

to  bridle  his  tongue,  he  replied :  "  When  your  generals  at 
Potidsea  and  Amphipolis  and  Delium  assigned  my  place 
in  the  battle,  I  remained  there,  did  my  work,  and  faced 
the  peril ;  and  think  you  that  when  Deity  has  assigned 
me  my  duty  at  this  pass  in  life  I  should,  through  fear  of 
death,  evade  it,  and  shirk  my  post  ?  " 
This  man  appeared  at  other  times,  to  some,  as  an  idle 
loafer,  but  now  he  arose  to  a  sublime  height.  He  re 
peated  with  emphasis  all  he  had  ever  said  against  their 
foolish  superstitions,  and  arraigned  the  waste  and  fu 
tility  of  the  idle  rich.  The  power  of  the  man  was  re 
vealed  as  never  before,  and  those  who  had  intended  to 
let  him  go  with  a  fine,  now  thought  it  best  to  dispose 
of  him.  The  safety  of  the  state  was  endangered  by  such 
an  agitator — the  question  of  religion  is  really  not  what 
has  sent  the  martyrs  to  the  stake — it  is  the  politician, 
not  the  priest,  who  fears  the  heretic. 
By  a  small  majority,  Socrates  was  found  guilty  and 
sentenced  to  death.  Let  Plato  tell  of  that  last  hour — he 
has  done  it  once  for  all : 

"When  he  had  done  speaking,  Crito  said :  "  And  have  you 

any  commands  for  us,  Socrates — anything  to  say  about 

your  children,  or  any  other  matter  in  which  we  can 

serve  you?" 

"  Nothing  particular,"  he  said,  "  only,  as  I  have  always 

told  you,  I  would  have  you  to  look  to  your  own  conduct ; 

that  is  a  service  which  you  may  always  be  doing  to  me 

and  mine  as  well  as  to  yourselves."  *  *  *  * 

"  We  will  do  our  best,"  said  Crito.  "  But  in  what  way 

would  you  have  us  bury  you  ?  " 


SOCRATES 25 

"  In  any  way  that  you  like;  only  you  must  get  hold  of 
me,  and  take  care  that  I  do  not  walk  away  from  you." 
Then  he  turned  to  us,  and  added  with  a  smile :  "  I  can 
not  make  Crito  believe  that  I  am  the  same  Socrates 
who  have  been  talking  and  conducting  the  argument ;  he 
fancies  that  I  am  the  other  Socrates  whom  he  will  soon 
see,  a  dead  body — and  he  asks,  *  How  shall  he  bury  me  ? ' 
And  though  I  have  spoken  many  words  in  the  endeavor 
to  show  that  when  I  have  drunk  the  poison  I  shall  leave 
you  and  go  to  the  joys  of  the  blessed, — these  words  of 
mine,  with  which  I  comforted  you  and  myself,  have 
had,  as  I  perceive,  no  effect  upon  Crito.  And  therefore 
I  want  you  to  be  surety  for  me  now,  as  he  was  surety 
for  me  at  the  trial :  but  let  the  promise  be  of  another 
sort ;  for  he  was  my  surety  to  the  judges  that  I  would 
remain,  but  you  must  be  my  surety  to  him  that  I  shall 
not  remain,  but  go  away  and  depart;  and  then  he  will 
suffer  less  at  my  death,  and  not  be  grieved  when  he  sees 
my  body  being  burned.  I  would  not  have  him  sorrow  at 
my  hard  lot,  or  say  at  the  burial,  *  Thus  we  lay  out  Soc 
rates,'  or,  '  Thus  we  follow  him  to  the  grave  or  bury 
him;'  for  false  words  are  not  only  evil  in  themselves, 
but  they  infect  the  soul  with  evil.  Be  of  good  cheer  then, 
my  dear  Crito,  and  say  that  you  are  burying  my  body 
only,  and  do  with  that  as  is  usual,  and  as  you  think 
best."  #*#* 

When  he  had  spoken  these  words,  he  arose  and  went 
into  the  bath-chamber  with  Crito,  who  bid  us  wait ;  and 
we  waited,  talking  and  thinking  of  the  subject  of  dis 
course,  and  also  of  the  greatness  of  our  sorrow ;  he  was 
like  a  father  of  whom  we  were  being  bereaved,  and  we 
were  about  to  pass  the  rest  of  our  lives  as  orphans. 
When  he  had  taken  the  bath,  his  children  were  brought 
to  him — and  the  women  of  his  family  also  came,  and  he 
talked  to  them  and  gave  them  a  few  directions  in  the 


26 SOCRATES 

presence  of  Crito ;  and  he  then  dismissed  them  and  re 
turned  to  us. 

Now  the  hour  of  sunset  was  near.  "When  he  came  out, 
he  sat  down  with  us  again  after  his  bath,  but  not  much 
was  said.  Soon  the  jailer,  who  was  the  servant,  entered 
and  stood  by  him,  saying:  "To  you,  Socrates,  whom  I 
know  to  be  the  noblest  and  gentlest  and  best  of  all  who 
ever  came  to  this  place,  I  will  not  impute  the  angry 
feelings  of  other  men,  who  rage  and  swear  at  me  when, 
in  obedience  to  the  authorities,  I  bid  them  drink  the 
poison — indeed  I  am  sure  that  you  will  not  be  angry 
with  me ;  for  others,  as  you  are  aware,  and  not  I,  are  the 
guilty  cause.  And  so  fare  you  well,  and  try  to  bear 
lightly  what  must  needs  be;  you  know  my  errand."  Then 
bursting  into  tears,  he  turned  away  and  went  out. 
Socrates  looked  at  him  and  said:  "  I  return  your  good 
wishes,  and  will  do  as  you  bid."  Then  turning  to  us,  he 
said,  "  How  charming  the  man  is :  since  I  have  been  in 
prison,  he  has  always  been  coming  to  see  me,  and  at 
times,  he  would  talk  to  me,  and  was  as  good  as  could  be 
to  me,  and  now  see  how  generously  he  sorrows  for  me. 
But  we  must  do  as  he  says,  Crito;  let  the  cup  be 
brought." 

"  Not  yet,"  said  Crito,  "the  sun  is  still  upon  the  hilltops, 
and  many  a  one  has  taken  the  draught  late,  and  after 
the  announcement  has  been  made  to  him,  he  has  eaten 
and  drunk  and  indulged  in  sensual  delights;  do  not 
hasten  then,  there  is  still  time." 

Socrates  said:  "Yes,  Crito,  and  they  of  whom  you 
speak  are  right  in  doing  thus,  but  I  do  not  think  that  I 
should  gain  anything  by  drinking  the  poison  a  little  later; 
I  should  be  sparing  and  saving  a  life  which  is  already 
gone  :  I  could  only  laugh  at  myself  for  this.  Please  then 
to  do  as  I  say,  and  not  to  refuse  me." 
Crito,  when  he  heard  this,  made  a  sign  to  the  servant; 


SOCRATES 27 

and  the  servant  went  in,  and  remained  for  some  time, 
and  then  returned  with  the  jailer  carrying  the  cup  of 
poison.  Socrates  said:  "You,  my  good  friend,  who  are 
experienced  in  these  matters,  shall  give  me  directions 
how  I  am  to  proceed.  The  man  answered:  "You  have 
only  to  walk  about  until  your  legs  are  heavy,  and  then 
to  lie  down,  and  the  poison  will  act."  At  the  same  time, 
he  handed  the  cup  to  Socrates,  who,  in  the  easiest  and 
gentlest  manner,  without  the  least  fear  or  change  of 
color  or  feature,  looking  at  the  man  with  his  eyes,  Echec- 
rates,  as  his  manner  was,  took  the  cup  and  said: 
11  What  do  you  say  about  making  the  libation  out  of  this 
cup  to  any  god?  May  I,  or  not  ?  "  The  man  answered : 
"  "We  only  prepare,  Socrates,  just  so  much  as  we  deem 
enough."  "I  understand,"  he  said:  "Yet  I  may  and  must 
pray  to  the  gods  to  prosper  my  journey  from  this  to  that 
other  world — may  this,  then,  which  is  my  prayer,  be 
granted  to  me  ?  "  Then  holding  the  cup  to  his  lips,  quite 
readily  and  cheerfully,  he  drank  off  the  poison.  And 
hitherto  most  of  us  had  been  able  to  control  our  sorrow ; 
but  now  we  saw  him  drinking,  and  saw  too,  that  he 
had  finished  the  draught,  we  could  no  longer  forbear, 
and  in  spite  of  myself,  my  own  tears  were  flowing  fast ; 
so  that  I  covered  my  face  and  wept  over  myself,  for 
certainly  I  was  not  weeping  over  him,  but  at  the  thought 
of  my  own  calamity  in  having  lost  such  a  companion. 
Nor  was  I  the  first,  for  Crito,  when  he  found  himself 
unable  to  restrain  his  tears,  had  got  up  and  moved  away, 
and  I  followed;  and  at  that  moment,  Apollodorus,  who 
had  been  weeping  all  the  time,  broke  out  into  a  loud  cry, 
which  made  cowards  of  us  all.  Socrates  alone  retained 
his  calmness :  "  What  is  this  strange  outcry  ?  "  he  said, 
*  *  I  sent  away  the  women  mainly  in  order  that  they  might 
not  offend  in  this  way,  for  I  have  heard  that  a  man 
should  die  in  peace.  Be  quiet  then,  and  have  patience." 


28 


SOCRATES 


When  we  heard  that,  we  were  ashamed,  and  refrained 
our  tears;  and  he  walked  about  until,  as  he  said,  his 
legs  began  to  fail,  and  then  he  lay  on  his  back,  accord 
ing  to  the  directions,  and  the  man  who  gave  him  the 
poison,  now  and  then  looked  at  his  feet  and  legs ;  and 
after  a  while,  he  pressed  his  foot  hard  and  asked  him 
if  he  could  feel;  and  he  said,  "No";  and  then  his  leg,  and 
so  upwards  and  upwards,  and  showed  us  that  he  was 
cold  and  stiff.  And  he  felt  them  himself,  and  said: 
"  When  the  poison  reaches  the  heart,  that  will  be  the 
end."  He  was  beginning  to  grow  cold,  when  he  un 
covered  his  face,  for  he  had  covered  himself  up,  and 
said  (they  were  his  last  words),  "  Crito,  I  owe  a  cock 
to  Asclepius;  will  you  remember  to  pay  the  debt?" 
"The  debt  shall  be  paid,"  said  Crito;  "Is  there  any 
thing  else?"  There  was  no  answer  to  this  question; 
but  in  a  minute  or  two,  a  movement  was  heard,  and  the 
attendants  uncovered  him ;  his  eyes  were  set,  and  Crito 
closed  his  eyes  and  mouth. 

Such  was  the  end,  Echecrates,  of  our  friend,  whom  I 
may  truly  call  the  wisest,  the  justest,  and  best  of  all  the 
men  whom  I  have  ever  known. 


Vitile 

TO   THE    HOMES    OF    GREAT    PHILOSOPHERS 


1 

I  Vol.  XIV.  FEBRUARY,  1904.  No.  a 

By  ELBERT  HUBBARD 

Single  Copies,  25  cents *  By  the  Year,  $3.00 


LITTLE  JOURNEYS 

By  Elbert  Hubbard  FOR   1904 

WILL     BE  -TO. THE-    HOMES     OF 

GREAT  PHILOSOPHERS 


THE  SUBJECTS  AS  FOLLOWS 


i  —Socrates 

^ — Seneca 

3— Hristotle 

4 — jMarcue  Hurelius 

5 — Spinoza 

6 — Swedenborg 


7 — Xmmanuet  Kant 
8— Huguste  Comte 
9— Voltaire 
10 — fierbert  Spencer 
1 1 — Schopenhauer 
12— Renry  Choreau 


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Little 
Journeys 

TO   THE  HOMES   OF 

Great 
Philosophers 


Seneca 


WRITTEN  BY  ELBERT 
HUBBARD  AND  DONE 
INTO  A  BOOK  BY  THE 
ROYCROFTERS,  AT 
THEIR  SHOP,  WHICH 
IS  IN  EAST  AURORA, 
NEW  YORK,  MCMIV 


IF  we  wish  to  be  just  judges  of  all  things,  let  us  first  persuade 
ourselves  of  this :  that  there  is  not  one  of  us  without  fault :  no  man 
is  found  who  can  acquit  himself;  and  he  who  calls  himself  innocent 
does  so  with  reference  to  a  witness,  and  not  to  his  conscience. 

LETTERS  OF  SENECA. 


Seneca 


N 


|RUE  Americans  and  patriotic,  -who  live 
in  York  State,  often  refer  you  to  the  life 
of  Red  Jacket  as  proof  that  "Seneca" 
is  an  Iroquois  Indian  word.  The  In 
dians,  however,  whom  we  call  the 
Senecas  never  called  themselves  thus 
until  they  took  to  strong  water  and  be 
came  civilized.  Before  that  they  were 
the  Tsonnundawaonas.  The  Dutch  trad 
ers,  intent  on  pelts  and  pelf,  called 
them  the  Sinnekaas,  meaning  the  valiant 
or  the  beautiful.  Then  came  that  fateful 
day  when  Rev.  Peleg  Spooner,  the  dis 
coverer  of  the  Erie  Canal,  journeyed 
to  Niagara  Falls,  and  having  influence 
with  the  authorities  at  Washington, 
gave  to  towns  along  the  way  these 
names :  Troy,  Rome,  Ithaca,  Syracuse, 
Ilion,  Manlius,  Homer,  Corfu,  Palmyra, 
Utica,  Delhi,  Memphis  and  Marathon. 
He  really  exhausted  Grote's  History 
of  Greece  and  Guizot's  Rome,  reveal 
ing  a  most  depressing  lack  of  humor. 
This  classic  flavor  of  the  map  of  New 
York  is  as  surprising  to  English  tourists 
as  was  the  discovery  to  Heinrich  Hud 
son  when,  on  sailing  up  the  North  River, 
he  found  on  nearing  Albany  that  the  river 
bore  the  same  name  as  himself. 


30 SENECA 

IN  the  eighteenth  chapter  of  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles 
we  read  of  Paul  being  brought  before  Gallic,  Pro 
consul  of  Achaia.  And  the  accusers,  clutching  the 
bald  and  bow-legged  bachelor  by  the  collar,  bawl  out 
to  the  Judge,  "  This  fellow  persuadeth  men  to  worship 
God  contrary  to  law ! ' ' 

And  the  little  man  is  about  to  make  reply,  when  Gallic 
says,  with  a  touch  of  impatience,  "  If  it  were  a  matter 
of  wrong  or  injustice,  O  ye  Jews,  reason  would  that  I 
should  bear  with  you.  But  if  it  be  a  question  of  words 
and  names,  and  of  your  law,  look  ye  to  it,  for  I  will  be 
no  judge  of  such  matters  !  "  And  the  account  concludes, 
"  And  he  drave  them  from  the  judgment  seat." 
That  is  to  say,  he  gave  Saint  Paul  a  nolle  pros.  Had 
Gallic  wished  to  be  severe  he  might  have  put  the  qui 
etus  on  Christianity  for  all  time,  for  Saint  Paul  had  all 
there  was  of  it  stowed  in  his  valiant  head  and  heart. 
Q  Gallio  was  the  elder  brother  of  Seneca;  his  right  name 
being  Annseus  Seneca,  but  he  changed  it  to  Junius 
Gallio,  in  honor  of  a  patron  who  had  especially  be 
friended  him  in  youth. 

Gallio  seems  to  have  been  a  man  of  good,  sturdy,  com 
mon  sense — he  could  distinguish  between  right  living 
and  a  mumble  of  words,  man-made  rules,  laws  such  as 
heresy,  blasphemy,  Sabbath-breaking  and  marrying 
one's  deceased  wife's  sister.  The  Moqui  Indians  believe 
that  if  any  one  is  allowed  to  have  a  photograph  taken 
of  himself  he  will  dry  up  in  a  month  and  blow  away. 
Moreover,  lists  of  names  are  not  wanting  with  memo- 


SENECA 31 

randa  of  times  and  places.  In  America  there  are  yet 
people  who  hotly  argue  as  to  what  mode  of  baptism  is 
correct,  who  talk  earnestly  about  the  "saved"  and 
"lost,"  and  will  tell  you  of  the  "heathen"  and  those 
who  are  "without  the  pale."  They  think  that  the 
promise,  "  Seek  and  ye  shall  find,  knock  and  it  shall  be 
opened  unto  you,"  applies  only  to  the  Caucasian  race. 
Q  In  the  earlier  translations  of  Seneca  there  were 
printed  various  letters  that  were  supposed  to  have 
passed  between  St.  Paul  and  Seneca.  Later  editors 
have  dropped  them  out  for  lack  of  authenticity.  But  the 
fact  that  St.  Paul  met  Seneca's  brother  face  to  face,  as 
well  as  the  fact  that  the  brother  was  willing  to  discuss 
right  living,  but  had  no  time  to  waste  on  the  Gemara 
and  theological  quibbles,  is  undisputed. 


IT  was  the  proud  boast  of  Augustus  that  he  found 
Rome  a  place  of  brick  and  left  it  a  city  of  marble. 
Commercial  prosperity  buys  the  leisure  upon  which 
letters  flourish.  We  flout  the  business  man,  but  with 
out  him  there  would  be  no  poets.  Poets  write  for  the 
people  who  have  time  to  read.  And  out  of  the  surplus 
that  is  left  after  securing  food,  we  buy  books.  Augustus 
built  his  marble  city,  and  he  also  made  Virgil,  Horace, 
Ovid  and  Livy  possible. 

Augustus  reigned  forty-four  years,  and  it  was  in  the 
twenty-seventh  year  of  his  reign  that  there  was  born  in 
Bethlehem  of  Judea  a  Babe  who  was  to  revolutionize 


32 SENECA 

the  calendar.  The  Dean  of  Ely  subtly  puts  forth  the  sug 
gestive  thought  that  if  it  had  not  been  for  Augustus  we 
might  never  have  heard  of  Jesus.  It  was  Augustus  who 
made  Jerusalem  a  Roman  Province;  and  it  was  the 
economic  and  political  policy  of  Augustus  that  evolved 
the  Scribes  and  Pharisees;  and  ill-gotten  gains  made 
the  hypocrites  and  publicans  possible ;  then  comes 
Pontius  Pilate  with  his  receding  chin. 
Jesus  was  seventeen  years  old  when  Augustus  died — 
Augustus  never  heard  of  Him,  and  the  Roman's  un- 
prophetic  mind  sent  no  search-light  into  the  future, 
neither  did  his  eyes  behold  the  Star  in  the  East. 
We  are  all  making  and  shaping  history,  and  how  much, 
none  of  us  know,  any  more  than  did  Augustus. 
Julius  Caesar  had  no  son  to  take  his  place,  so  he  named 
his  nephew,  Augustus,  his  heir.  Augustus  was  suc 
ceeded  by  Tiberius,  his  adopted  child.  Caligula,  suc 
cessor  of  Tiberius,  was  the  son  of  the  great  Roman 
General,  Germanicus.  Caligula  revealed  his  good  sense 
by  drinking  life  to  its  lees  in  a  reign  of  four  years,  dy 
ing  without  heirs — nature  refusing  to  transmit  either 
infamy  or  genius.  Claudius,  an  uncle  of  Caligula,  ac 
cepted  the  vacant  place,  as  it  seemed  to  him  there  was 
no  one  else  could  fill  it  so  well.  Claudius  had  the  felic 
ity  to  be  married  four  times,  and  left  several  sons,  but 
fate  had  it  that  he  should  be  followed  by  Nero,  his 
step-son,  who  called  himself  "  Caesar,"  yet  in  whose 
veins  there  leaped  not  a  single  Caesarian  corpuscle. 
The  guardian  and  tutor  of  Nero  was  Lucius  Seneca, 


SENECA 33 

the  greatest,  best  and  wisest  man  of  his  time,  a  fact  I 
here  state  in  order  to  show  the  vanity  of  pedagogics. 
Harking  back  once  more  to  Augustus,  let  it  be  known 
that  but  for  him  Seneca  would  probably  have  never  left 
his  mark  upon  this  bank  and  shoal  of  time.  Seneca  was 
a  Spaniard,  born  in  Cordova,  a  Roman  Province,  that 
was  made  so  by  Augustus — under  whose  kindly  and 
placating  influence  all  citizens  of  Hispania  became 
Roman  citizens — just  as  when  California  was  admitted 
to  the  Union  every  man  in  the  state  was  declared  a 
naturalized  citizen  of  the  United  States,  the  act  being 
performed  for  political  purposes,  based  on  the  prece 
dents  of  Augustus,  and  never  done  before  nor  since  in 
America. 

Seneca  was  four  years  old  -when  his  father's  family 
moved  from  Cordova  to  Rome ;  this  was  three  years 
before  the  birth  of  Christ.  Years  pass,  but  the  human 
heart  is  forever  the  same.  The  elder  Seneca,  Marcus 
Seneca,  had  ambitions — he  was  a  great  man  in  Cor 
dova  :  he  could  memorize  a  list  of  two  thousand  words. 
These  words  had  no  relationship  one  to  another,  and 
Marcus  Seneca  could  not  put  words  together  so  as  to 
make  good  sense,  but  his  name  was  "Loisette":  he 
had  a  scheme  of  mnemonics  that  he  imparted  for  a 
consideration.  He  was  also  a  teacher  of  elocution,  and 
had  compiled  a  year-book  of  the  sayings  of  Horace, 
which  secured  him  a  knighthood.  Augustus  paid  his 
colonists  pretty  compliments,  very  much  as  England 
gives  out  brevets  to  Strathcona  and  other  worthy 


34 SENECA 

Canadians,  who  raise  troops  of  horse  to  fight  England's 
battles  in  South  Africa  -when  duty  calls. 
Marcus  Seneca  made  haste  to  move  to  Rome  when 
Augustus  let  down  the  bars.  Rome  was  the  center  of 
the  art  world,  the  home  of  letters,  and  all  that  made 
for  beauty  and  excellence.  There  were  three  boys  and 
a  girl  in  the  Seneca  family.  The  elder  boy,  Annaeus, 
was  to  become  Gallic,  the  Roman  governor,  and  have 
his  name  mentioned  in  the  most  widely  circulated  book 
the  world  has  ever  known ;  the  second  boy  was  Lu 
cius,  the  subject  of  this  sketch;  the  younger  boy,  Mela, 
was  to  become  the  father  of  Lucan,  the  poet. 
The  sister  of  Seneca  became  the  wife  of  the  Roman 
governor  of  Egypt.  It  was  at  a  time  when  the  schem 
ing  rapacity  of  women  was  so  much  in  evidence  that 
the  Senate  debated  whether  it  should  not  forbid  its 
representatives  abroad  to  be  accompanied  by  their 
wives.  France  has  seen  such  times — England  and 
America  have  glanced  that  way.  Women,  like  men, 
often  do  not  know  that  the  big  prizes  gravitate  where 
they  belong — they  set  traps  for  them,  lie  in  wait  and 
consider  prevarication  and  duplicity  better  than  truth. 
When  women  use  their  beauty,  their  wit  and  their 
pink  persons  in  politics — trouble  lies  low  around  the 
corner.  But  this  sister  of  Seneca  was  never  seen  in 
public  unless  it  was  at  her  husband's  side ;  she  asked 
no  favors,  and  presents  sent  to  her  personally  by  pro 
vincials  were  politely  returned.  The  province  praised 
her,  and  perhaps  what  was  better,  did  n't  know  her, 


SENECA 35 

and  begged  the  Emperor  to  send  them  more  of  such 
excellent  and  virtuous  women — from  which  we  infer 
that  virtue  consists  in  minding  one's  own  business. 
C{  In  making  up  a  list  of  great  mothers,  do  not  leave 
out  Helvia,  mother  of  three  sons  and  a  daughter  who 
made  their  mark  upon  the  times.  It  is  no  small  thing 
to  be  a  great  mother ! 

Women  of  intellect  were  not  much  appreciated  then, 
but  Seneca  dedicated  his  "  Consolations,"  his  best 
book,  to  his  mother.  The  very  mintage  of  his  mind 
was  for  her,  and  again  and  again  he  tells  of  her  insight, 
her  gentle  wit  and  her  appreciation  of  all  that  was 
beautiful  and  best  in  the  world  of  thought.  In  a  letter 
addressed  to  her  when  he  was  past  forty,  he  says, 
"You  never  stained  your  face  with  walnut  juice  nor 
rouge ;  you  never  wore  gowns  cut  conspicuously  low ; 
your  ornaments  were  a  loveliness  of  mind  and  person 
that  time  could  not  tarnish." 

But  the  father  had  the  knighthood  and  he  called  his 
family  to  witness  it  at  odd  times  and  sundry. 
In  Rome,  Marcus  Seneca  made  head  as  he  never  did 
in  Cordova.  There  he  was  only  Marcus  Micawber : 
but  here  his  memory  feats  won  him  the  distinction  that 
genius  deserves.  There  is  a  grave  question  whether  a 
verbal  memory  does  not  go  with  a  very  mediocre  in 
tellect,  but  Marcus  said  this  argument  was  put  out  by 
a  man  with  no  memory  worth  mentioning. 
Rome  was  at  her  ripest  flower — the  petals  were  soon 
to  loosen  and  flutter  to  the  ground,  but  nobody  thought 


36 SENECA 

so — they  never  do.  Everywhere  the  Roman  legions 
were  victorious,  and  commerce  sailed  the  seas  in  pros 
perous  ships.  Power  manifests  itself  in  conspicuous 
waste,  and  the  habit  grows  until  conspicuous  waste 
imagines  itself  power.  Conditions  in  Rome  had  evolved 
our  old  friend,  the  Sophist,  the  man  who  lived  but  to 
turn  an  epigram,  to  soulfully  contemplate  a  lily,  to  sigh 
mysteriously,  and  cultivate  the  far-away  look.  These 
men  were  elocutionists  who  gesticulated  in  curves,  and 
let  the  thought  follow  the  attitude.  They  were  not  con 
tent  to  be  themselves,  but  chased  the  airy,  fairy  fabric 
of  a  fancy  and  called  it  life. 


THE  pretense  and  folly  of  Roman  society  made 
the  Sophists  possible — like  all  sects  they  minis 
tered  to  a  certain  cast  of  mind.  Over  against  the 
Sophists  there  were  the  Stoics,  the  purest,  noblest  and 
sanest  of  all  ancient  cults,  corresponding  very  closely 
to  our  Quakers,  before  Worth  and  Wanamaker  threw 
them  a  hawser  and  took  them  in  tow.  It  is  a  tide  of  feel 
ing  produces  a  sect,  not  a  belief:  primitive  Christianity 
was  a  revulsion  from  Phariseeism,  and  a  "William  Penn 
and  a  wan  Ann  Lee  form  the  antithesis  of  an  o'er- 
vaulting,  fantastic  and  soulless  ritual. 
The  father  of  Seneca  hung  upon  the  favor  of  the  Soph 
ists  :  he  taught  them  mnemonics,  rhetoric  and  elocution, 
and  the  fact  that  he  was  a  courtly  Spaniard  was  in  his 
favor — we  dote  on  a  foreign  accent  and  relish  the  thing 


SENECA 37 

that  comes  from  afar.  C£  Marcus  Seneca  was  getting 
rich.  He  never  perceived  the  absurdity  of  a  life  of 
make-believe,  but  his  son,  Lucius  Seneca,  heir  to  his 
mother's  discerning  mind,  when  nineteen  years  old, 
foreswore  the  Sophists,  and  sided  with  the  unpopular 
Stoics,  much  to  the  chagrin  of  the  father. 
Seneca — let  us  call  him  so  after  this — wore  the  simple 
white  robe  of  the  Stoics,  without  ornament  or  jewelry. 
He  drank  no  wine,  and  ate  no  meat.  Vegetarianism 
comes  in  waves,  and  it  is  interesting  to  see  that  in  an 
essay  on  the  subject,  Seneca  plagiarizes  every  argu 
ment  put  forth  by  Col.  Ernest  Crosby,  even  to  men 
tioning  a  butcher  as  an  "executioner,"  his  goods  as 
"dead  corpses,"  and  the  customers  as  "cannibals." 
Q  This  kind  of  talk  did  not  help  the  family  peace,  and 
the  father  spoke  of  disowning  the  son,  if  he  did  not 
cease  affronting  the  Best  Society. 

Soon  after,  the  Emperor  Tiberius  issued  an  edict  ban 
ishing  all  "strange  sects  who  fasted  on  feast  days,  and 
otherwise  displeased  the  gods."  This  was  a  suggestion 
for  the  benefit  of  the  Crosbyites.  It  is  with  a  feeling  of 
downright  disappointment  that  we  find  Seneca  shortly 
appearing  in  an  embroidered  robe,  and  making  a  speech 
wherein  the  moderate  use  of  wine  is  recommended, 
also  the  flesh  of  animals  for  those  who  think  they  need  it. 
Q  This,  doubtless,  is  the  same  speech  we,  too,  would 
have  made  had  we  been  there ;  but  we  want  our  hero 
to  be  strong,  and  defy  even  an  Emperor,  if  he  comes 
between  the  man  and  his  right  to  eat  what  he  wishes, 


38 SENECA 

and  wear  what  he  listeth,  and  we  blame  him  for  not 
doing  the  things  we  never  do.  But  Seneca  was  getting 
on  in  the  world — he  had  become  a  lawyer,  and  his 
Sophist  training  was  proving  its  worth.  Henry  Ward 
Beecher,  in  reply  to  a  young  man  who  asked  him  if  he 
advised  the  study  of  elocution,  said  :  "  Elocution  is  all 
right,  but  you  will  have  to  forget  it  all  before  you  be 
come  an  orator."  Seneca  was  shedding  his  elocution, 
and  losing  himself  in  his  work.  A  successful  lawsuit 
had  brought  him  before  the  public  as  a  strong  advocate. 
He  was  able  to  think  on  his  feet.  His  voice  was  low, 
musical  and  effective,  and  the  word,  "  dulcis,"  was  ap 
plied  to  him  as  it  was  to  his  brother,  Gallic.  Possibly 
there  was  something  in  ol'  Marcus  Micawber's  peda 
gogic  schemes,  after  all ! 

In  moderating  his  Stoic  philosophy,  Seneca  gives  us 
the  key  to  his  character — the  man  wanted  to  be  gentle 
and  kind,  he  wished  neither  to  affront  his  father  nor 
society,  so  he  compromised — he  would  please  and 
placate.  Ease  and  luxury  appealed  to  him,  and  yet  his 
cool  intellect  stood  off,  and  reviewing  the  proceeding, 
pronounced  it  base.  He  succumbed  to  the  strongest  at 
traction,  and  attempted  the  feat  of  riding  two  horses 
at  once  <r  dT 

From  his  twentieth  year,  Seneca  dallied  with  the  epi 
gram,  found  solace  in  a  sentence,  and  got  a  sweet, 
subtle  joy  by  taking  a  thought  captive.  Lucullus  tells 
us  of  the  fine  intoxication  of  oratory,  but  neither  opium 
nor  oratory  imparts  a  finer  thrill  than  to  successfully 


SENECA 39 

drive  a  flock  of  clauses,  and  round  up  an  idea,  roping  it 
in  careless  grace,  with  what  my  lord  Hamlet  calls 
words,  words,  words. 

The  early  Christian  Fathers  spoke  of  him  as  "  our  Sen 
eca."  His  writings  abound  in  the  purest  philosophy — 
often  seemingly  paraphrasing  Saint  Paul — and  every 
argument  for  directness  of  speech,  simplicity,  manli 
ness  and  moderation  are  put  forth.  His  writings  became 
the  rage  in  Rome — at  feasts  he  read  his  essays  on  the 
Ideal  Life,  just  as  the  disciples  of  Tolstoy  often 
travel  by  the  gorge  road,  and  give  banquets  in  honor 
of  the  man  who  no  longer  attends  one;  or  princely-paid 
preachers  glorify  the  Man  who  said  to  His  apostles, 
"  Take  neither  scrip  nor  purse." 

Seneca  was  a  combination  of  Delsarte  and  Emerson. 
He  was  as  popular  as  Henry  Irving,  and  as  wise  as 
Thomas  Brackett  Reed.  His  writings  were  in  demand ; 
when  he  spoke  in  public,  crowds  hung  upon  his  words, 
and  the  families  of  the  great  &  powerful  sent  him  their 
sons,  hoping  he  would  impart  the  secret  of  success. 
The  world  takes  a  man  at  the  estimate  he  puts  upon 
himself.  Seneca  knew  enough  to  hold  himself  high. 
Honors  came  his  way,  and  the  wealth  he  acquired  is 
tokened  in  those  five  hundred  tables,  inlaid  with  ivory, 
to  which  at  times  he  invited  his  friends  to  feast.  As  a 
lawyer,  he  took  his  pick  of  cases,  and  rarely  appeared, 
excepting  on  appeal  before  the  Emperor.  The  poise  of 
his  manner,  the  surety  of  his  argument,  the  gentle 
grace  of  his  diction,  caused  him  to  be  likened  to  Julius 


40 SENECA 

Caesar.  Q  And  this  led  straight  to  exile,  and  finally — 
death.  To  mediocrity,  genius  is  unforgivable. 


THERE  are  various  statements  to  the  effect  that 
Claudius  was  a  mental  defective,  a  sort  of  town 
fool,  patronized  by  the  nobles  for  their  sport  and 
jest.  We  are  also  told  that  he  was  made  Emperor  by 
the  Praetorian  Guards,  in  a  spirit  of  rollicking  bravado. 
Men  too  much  abused  must  have  some  merit,  or  why 
should  the  pack  bay  so  loudly  ?  Possibly  it  is  true  that 
in  the  youth  of  Claudius,  his  mother  used  to  declare, 
when  she  wanted  a  strong  comparison,  "  he  is  as  big  a 
fool  as  my  son,  Claudius."  But  then  the  mother  of 
Wellington  used  exactly  the  same  expression;  and 
Byron's  mother  had  a  way  of  referring  to  the  son  who 
was  to  rescue  her  from  oblivion,  and  send  her  name 
down  the  corridors  of  time,  as  "that  lame  brat." 
Claudius  was  a  brother  of  the  great  Germanicus,  and 
was  therefore  an  uncle  of  Caligula.  Caligula  was  the 
worst  ruler  that  Rome  ever  had ;  and  he  was  a  brother 
of  Agrippina,  mother  of  Nero.  This  precious  pair  had  a 
most  noble  and  generous  father,  and  their  gentle 
mother  was  a  fit  mate  for  the  great  Germanicus — these 
things  are  here  inserted  for  the  edification  of  folks  who 
take  stock  in  that  pleasant  fallacy,  the  Law  of  Heredity, 
&  who  gleefully  chase  the  genealogical  anise-seed  trail. 
Q  Caligula  happily  passed  out  without  an  heir,  &  Clau 
dius,  next  of  kin,  put  himself  in  the  way  of  the  Praeto- 


SENECA 4_i 

rian  Guard,  and  was  declared  Emperor.  Q  He  was  then 
fifty  years  old,  a  grass-widower — twice  over — and  on 
the  lookout  for  a  wife.  He  was  neither  wise  nor  great, 
nor  was  he  very  bad  ;  he  was  kind — after  dinner — and 
generous  when  rightly  approached.  Canon  Farrar 
likened  Claudius  to  King  James  I.,  who  gave  us  our 
English  Bible.  His  comparison  is  worth  quoting,  not 
alone  for  the  truth  it  contains,  but  because  it  is  an  in 
voluntary  paraphrase  of  the  faultless  literary  style  of 
the  Roman  rhetors.  Says  Canon  Farrar:  "Both  were 
learned,  and  both  were  eminently  unwise.  Both  were 
authors,  and  both  were  pedants.  Both  delegated  their 
highest  powers  to  worthless  favorites,  and  both  en 
riched  these  favorites  with  such  foolish  liberality  that 
they  remained  poor  themselves.  Both  of  them,  though 
of  naturally  good  dispositions,  were  misled  by  selfish 
ness  into  acts  of  cruelty ;  and  both  of  them,  though  la 
borious  in  the  discharge  of  duty,  succeeded  only  in 
rendering  royalty  ridiculous.  King  James  kept  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh,  the  brightest  intellect  of  his  time,  in 
prison ;  and  Claudius  sent  Seneca,  the  greatest  man  in 
his  kingdom,  into  exile." 

New-made  kings  sweep  clean.  The  impulses  of  Clau 
dius  were  right  and  just,  a  truthful  statement  I  here 
make  in  pleasant  compliment  to  a  brother  author.  The 
man  was  absent-minded,  had  much  faith  in  others, 
and  moved  in  the  line  of  least  resistance.  Like  most 
students  and  authors,  he  was  decidedly  littery.  He  se 
cured  a  divorce  from  one  wife  because  she  cleaned  up 


42 SENECA 

his  room  in  his  absence  so  that  he  could  never  find 
anything ;  and  the  other  wife  got  a  divorce  from  him 
because  he  refused  to  go  out  evenings  and  scintillate  in 
society — but  this  was  before  he  was  made  Emperor. 
Gf  God  knows,  people  had  their  troubles  then  as  now ! 
Q  To  take  this  man  who  loved  his  slippers  and  easy 
chair,  and  who  was  happy  with  a  roll  of  papyrus,  and 
plunge  him  into  a  seething  pot  of  politics,  not  to  men 
tion  matrimony,  was  refined  cruelty. 
The  match-makers  were  busy,  and  soon  Claudius  was 
married  to  Messalina,  the  handsomest  summer-girl  in 
Rome  *T  # 

For  a  short  time  he  bore  up  bravely,  and  was  filled 
with  the  wish  to  benefit  and  bless.  One  of  his  first  acts 
was  to  recall  Julia  and  Agrippina  from  exile,  they  hav 
ing  been  sent  away  in  a  fit  of  jealous  anger  by  their 
brother,  the  infamous  Caligula. 

Julia  was  beautiful  and  intellectual,  and  she  had  a  high 
regard  for  Seneca.  Agrippina  was  beautiful  and  infa 
mous,  and  pretended  that  she  loved  Claudius. 
Both  men  were  undone.  Seneca's  friendship  for  Julia, 
as  far  as  we  know,  was  of  a  kind  that  did  honor  to 
both,  but  they  made  a  too  conspicuous  pair  of  intel 
lectuals.  The  fear  and  jealousy  of  Claudius  was  aroused 
by  his  young  and  beautiful  wife,  who  showed  him  that 
Seneca,  the  courtly,  was  plotting  for  the  throne,  and 
in  this  ambition  Julia  was  a  party.  A  charge  of  undue 
intimacy  with  Julia,  the  beloved  niece  and  ward  of  the 
Emperor,  was  brought  against  Seneca,  and  he  was 


SENECA  _  43 

exiled  to  Corsica.  Imagine  Edmund  Burke  sent  to  St. 
Helena,  or  John  Hay  to  the  Dry  Tortugas,  and  you  get 
the  idea. 

The  sensitive  nature  of  Seneca  did  not  bear  up  under 
exile  as  we  would  have  wished.  Unlike  Victor  Hugo  at 
Guernsey,  he  was  alone,  and  surrounded  by  savages. 
Yet  even  Victor  Hugo  lifted  up  his  voice  in  bitter  com 
plaint.  Seneca  failed  to  anticipate  that  in  spite  of  the 
barrenness  of  Corsica,  it  would  some  day  produce  a 
man  who  would  jostle  his  Roman  Caesar  for  first  place 
on  history's  page. 

At  Corsica,  Seneca  produced  some  of  his  loftiest  and 
best  literature.  Exile  and  imprisonment  are  such  favor 
able  conditions  for  letters,  having  done  so  much  for 
authorship,  that  the  wonder  is  the  expedient  has  fallen 
into  practical  disuse.  Banishment  gave  Seneca  an  op 
portunity  to  put  into  execution  some  of  the  ideas  he 
had  so  long  expressed  concerning  the  simple  life,  and 
certain  it  is  that  the  experience  was  not  without  its 
benefits,  and  at  times  the  grim  humor  of  it  all  came  to 


Read  the  history  of  Greek  ostracism,  and  one  can 
almost  imagine  that  it  was  devised  by  the  man's 
friends  —  a  sort  of  heroic  treatment  prescribed  by  a 
great  spiritual  physician.  Personality  repels  as  well  as 
attracts  —  the  people  grow  tired  of  hearing  Aristides 
called  the  Just  —  he  is  exiled.  For  a  few  days  there  is  a 
glad  relief;  then  his  friends  begin  to  chant  his  praises 
—  he  is  missed.  People  tell  of  all  the  noble,  generous 


44 SENECA 

things  he  would  do  if  he  were  only  here.  Q  If  he  were 
only  here ! 

Petitions  are  circulated  for  his  return. 
The  law's  delay  ensues,  and  this  but  increases  desire. 
Hate  for  the  man  has  turned  to  pity,  and  pity  turns  to 
love,  as  starch  turns  to  gluten. 

The  man  comes  back,  and  is  greeted  with  boughs  and 
bays,  with  love  and  laurel.  His  home-coming  is  that  of 
a  conquering  hero.  If  the  Supreme  Court  were  to  issue 
an  injunction  requiring  all  husbands  to  separate  them 
selves  by  at  least  a  hundred  miles  from  their  wives, 
for  several  months  in  every  year,  it  would  cut  down 
divorces  ninety-five  per  cent,  add  greatly  to  domestic 
peace,  render  race-suicide  impossible,  and  generally 
liberate  millions  of  love  vibrations  that  would  other 
wise  lie  dormant. 


VALERIA  MESSALINA  lives  for  us  as  an  ex 
ample  of  female  depravity,  sister  in  crime  to 
Jezebel,  Berenice,  Drusilla,  Salome  and  Hero- 
dias.  Damn'd  by  a  dower  of  beauty,  with  men  at  her 
feet  whenever  she  so  ordered,  her  ambition  knew  no 
limit.  This  type  of  dictatorial  womanhood  starts  out  by 
making  conquests  of  individual  men,  but  the  conquests 
of  pretty  women  are  rarely  genuine.  Women  hold  no 
monopoly  on  duplicity,  and  there  is  a  deep  vein  of 
hypocrisy  in  men  that  prompts  their  playing  a  part,  and 
letting  the  woman  use  them.  When  the  time  is  ripe, 


SENECA 45 

they  toss  her  away  as  they  do  any  other  plaything,  as 
Omar  suggests  the  potter  tosses  the  luckless  pots  to 
hell  *f  *T 

'When  Julia  and  Agrippina  were  recalled,  the  act  was 
done  without  consulting  Messalina;  and  we  can  imag 
ine  her  rage  when  these  two  women,  as  beautiful  as 
herself,  came  back  without  her  permission.  Messalina 
had  never  found  favor  in  the  eyes  of  Seneca — he  treated 
her  with  patronizing  patience,  as  though  she  were  a 
spoilt  child. 

Now  that  Julia  was  back,  Messalina  hatched  the  plot 
that  struck  them  both.  Messalina  insisted  that  the 
wealth  of  Seneca  should  be  confiscated.  Claudius  at 
this  rebelled. 

History  is  replete  with  instances  of  great  men  ruled  by 
their  barbers  and  coachmen.  Claudius  left  the  affairs  of 
state  to  Narcissus,  his  private  secretary;  Polybius,  his 
literary  helper;  and  Pallas,  his  accountant.  These  men 
were  all  of  lowly  birth,  and  had  all  risen  in  the  ranks 
from  menial  positions,  and  one  of  them  at  least  had 
been  sold  as  a  slave,  and  afterward  purchased  his  free 
dom.  Then  there  was  Felix,  the  ex-slave,  another  pro 
tege  of  Claudius,  who  trembled  when  Paul  of  Tarsus 
told  him  a  little  wholesome  truth.  These  men  were  all 
immensely  rich,  and  once,  when  Claudius  complained 
of  poverty,  a  bystander  said :  "  You  should  go  into 
partnership  with  a  couple  of  your  freedmen,  and  then 
your  finances  would  be  all  right."  The  fact  that  Nar 
cissus,  Pallas  and  Polybius  constituted  the  real  govern- 


46 SENECA 

ment  is  nothing  against  them,  any  more  than  it  is  to 
the  discredit  of  certain  Irish  refugees  that  they  manage 
the  municipal  machinery  of  New  York  City — it  merely 
proves  the  impotence  of  the  men  who  have  allowed  the 
power  to  slip  from  their  grasp,  and  ride  as  passengers 
when  they  should  be  at  the  throttle. 
Messalina  managed  her  husband  by  alternate  cajo- 
lings  and  threats.  He  was  proud  of  her  saucy  beauty, 
and  it  was  pleasing  to  an  old  man's  vanity  to  think  that 
other  people  thought  she  loved  him.  She  bore  him  two 
sons,  by  name,  Brittanicus  and  Germanicus.  A  local 
wit  of  the  day  said,  "  It  was  kind  of  Messalina  to  pre 
sent  her  husband  with  these  boys,  otherwise  he  would 
never  have  had  any  claim  on  them." 
But  the  lines  were  tightening  around  Messalina,  and 
she  herself  was  drawing  the  cords.  She  had  put  favor 
ites  in  high  places,  banished  enemies,  and  ordered  the 
execution  of  certain  people  she  did  not  like.  Narcissus 
and  Pallas  gave  her  her  own  way,  because  they  knew 
Claudius  must  find  her  out  for  himself.  They  let  her 
believe  that  she  was  the  real  power  behind  the  throne. 
Her  ambitions  grew — she  herself  would  be  ruler — she 
gave  it  out  that  Claudius  was  insane.  Finally  she  de 
cided  that  the  time  was  right  for  a  coup  de  grace. 
Claudius  was  absent  from  Rome,  and  Messalina  wed 
ded  at  high  noon  with  young  Silius,  her  lover.  She  was 
led  to  believe  that  the  army  would  back  her  up,  and 
proclaim  her  son,  Brittanicus,  Emperor ;  in  which  case, 
she  herself  and  Silius  would  be  the  actual  rulers.  The 


SENECA 47 

wedding  festivities  were  at  their  height,  when  the  cry 
went  up  that  Claudius  had  returned,  and  was  approach 
ing  to  demand  vengeance.  Narcissus,  the  wily,  took  up 
the  shout,  and  panic-stricken,  Messalina  fled  for  safety 
in  one  way  and  Silius  in  another. 

Narcissus  followed  the  woman,  adding  to  her  drunken 
fright  by  telling  her  that  Claudius  was  close  behind, 
and  suggested  that  she  kill  herself  before  the  wronged 
man  should  appear.  A  dagger  was  handed  her,  and  she 
stabbed  herself  ineffectively  in  hysteric  haste.  The 
kind  secretary  then,  with  one  plunge  of  his  sword, 
completed  the  work  so  well  begun. 
A  truthful  account  of  Messalina's  death  was  told  to 
Claudius  while  he  was  at  dinner.  He  finished  the  meal 
without  saying  a  word,  gave  a  present  to  the  messen 
ger,  and  went  about  his  business,  asking  no  questions, 
and  never  again  mentioned  the  matter. 
The  fact  is  worthy  of  note  that  the  name  of  Messalina 
is  never  once  mentioned  by  Seneca.  He  pitied  her  vile- 
ness  and  villainy  so  much  he  could  not  hate  her.  He 
saw,  with  prophetic  vision,  what  her  end  would  be, 
and  when  her  passing  occurred,  he  was  too  great  and 
lofty  in  spirit  to  manifest  satisfaction. 


SCARCELY  had  the  funeral  of  Messalina  occurred, 
when  there  was  a  pretty  scramble  among  the 
eligible  to   see  who  should  solace  the  stricken 
widower.  Among  other  matrimonial   candidates  was 


48 SENECA 

Agrippina,  a  beautiful  widow,  twenty-nine  in  June, 
rich  in  her  own  right,  and  with  only  a  small  incum- 
brance  in  the  way  of  a  ten-year-old  boy,  Nero  by  name. 
Q  Agrippina  was  a  niece  of  Claudius,  and  such  mar 
riages  were  considered  unnatural,  but  Agrippina  had 
subtly  shown  that,  the  deceased  Emperor  being  her 
brother,  she  already  had  a  sort  of  claim  on  the  throne, 
and  her  marriage  with  Claudius  would  strengthen  the 
state.  Then  she  marshaled  her  charms  past  Claudius, 
in  3.  phalanx  and  back,  and  so  they  were  married. 
There  was  much  pomp  and  ceremony  at  the  wedding, 
and  the  high  priest  pronounced  the  magic  words — I 
trust  I  use  the  right  expression. 

Very  soon  after  her  marriage,  Agrippina  recalled  Seneca 
from  exile.  It  was  the  infamous  Messalina  who  had 
disgraced  him  and  sent  him  away,  and  for  Agrippina, 
the  sister  of  Julia,  to  bring  him  back,  was  regarded  as  a 
certificate  of  innocence,  and  a  great  diplomatic  move 
for  Agrippina. 

When  Seneca  returned,  the  whole  city  went  out  to 
meet  him.  It  is  not  at  all  likely  that  Seneca  had  a  sus 
picion  of  the  true  character  of  Agrippina,  any  more  than 
Claudius — which  sort  of  tends  to  show  the  futility  of 
philosophy. 

How  could  Seneca  read  her  true  character  when  it  had 
not  really  been  formed  ?  No  one  knows  what  he  will  do 
until  he  gets  a  good  chance.  It  is  unkind  condition  that 
keeps  most  of  us  where  we  belong. 
And  even  while  the  honeymoon, — or  should  we  say 


SENECA 49 

the  harvest-moon? — was  at  full,  Seneca  was  made  the 
legal  guardian  and  tutor  of  Nero,  the  son  of  the  Em 
press,  and  became  a  member  of  the  Royal  household. 
This  was  done  in  gratitude,  and  to  make  amends,  if 
possible,  for  the  wrong  of  banishment  inflicted  upon 
the  man  by  scandalously  linking  his  name  with  that  of 
the  sister  of  the  woman  who  was  now  First  Lady  of 
the  Land. 

Seneca  was  then  forty-nine  years  of  age — he  had  fifteen 
years  of  life  yet  before  him,  and  was  to  gain  much  val 
uable  experience,  and  get  an  insight  into  a  side  of  exis 
tence  he  had  not  yet  known. 

Agrippina  was  born  in  Cologne,  which  was  called,  in 
her  honor,  Colonia  Agrippina,  and  now  has  been  short 
ened  to  its  present  form.  "Whenever  you  buy  cologne, 
remember  where  the  word  came  from. 
Agrippina,  from  her  very  girlhood,  had  a  thirst  for  ad 
venture,  and  her  aim  was  high.  When  fourteen,  she 
married  Domitius,  a  Roman  noble,  thirty  years  her 
senior.  He  was  as  worthless  a  rogue  as  ever  wore  out 
his  physical  capacity  for  sin  in  middle  life,  and  filled  his 
dying  days  with  crimes  that  were  only  mental.  He 
knew  himself  so  well,  that  when  Nero  was  born  he  de 
clared  that  the  issue  of  such  a  marriage  could  only 
breed  a  being  who  would  ruin  the  state — a  monster 
with  his  father's  vices  and  his  mother's  insatiable  am 
bition  jf  & 

Agrippina  was  woman  enough  to  hate  this  man  with 
an  utter  detestation,  but  he  was  rich,  and  so  she  endured 


5° SENECA 

him  for  ten  years,  and  then  assisted  nature  in  making 
him  food  for  worms. 

The  intensity  of  Agrippina's  nature  might  have  been 
used  for  happy  ends  if  the  stream  of  her  life  had  not 
been  so  early  dammed  and  polluted.  She  loved  her  child 
with  a  clutching,  feverish  affection,  and  declared  that 
he  would  some  day  rule  Rome.  This  was  not  really 
such  a  far-away  dream,  when  we  remember  that  her 
brother  was  then  Emperor  and  childless.  Her  thought 
was  more  for  her  child  than  for  herself,  and  her  ex 
pectation  was  that  he  would  succeed  Caligula.  The 
persistency  with  which  she  told  this  ambition  for  her 
boy  is  both  beautiful  and  pathetic.  Every  mother  sees 
her  own  life  projected  in  her  child,  and  within  certain 
bounds  this  is  right  and  well. 

Glimpses  of  kindness  and  right  intent  are  shown  when 
Agrippina  recalled  Seneca,  and  when  she  became  the 
mother  of  the  motherless  children  of  Claudius.  She 
publicly  adopted  these  children,  and  for  a  time  gave 
them  every  attention  and  advantage  that  was  bestowed 
upon  her  own  son.  Gibbon  says  for  one  woman  to 
mother  another  woman's  children  is  a  diplomatic  card 
often  played,  but  Gibbon  sometimes  quibbles. 
Gradually  the  fierce  desire  of  Agrippina's  heart  began 
to  manifest  itself.  She  plotted  and  arranged  that  Nero 
should  marry  Octavia,  the  daughter  of  Claudius. 
Octavia  was  seven  years  older  than  Nero,  but  the 
sooner  the  marriage  could  be  brought  about,  the  better 
— it  would  give  her  a  double  hold  on  the  throne.  To 


SENECA 51 

this  end  suitors  for  the  hand  of  Octavia  were  disgraced 
by  false  charges,  and  sent  off  into  exile,  and  the  same 
fate  came  to  at  least  three  young  women  who  stood  in 
the  way. 

But  the  one  real  obstacle  was  Claudius  himself — he 
was  sixty,  and  might  be  so  absurd  as  to  live  to  be 
eighty.  Locusta,  a  famous  professional  chemist,  was 
employed,  and  the  deed  was  done  by  Agrippina  serving 
the  deadly  dish  herself.  The  servants  carried  Claudius 
off  to  bed,  thinking  he  was  merely  drunk,  but  he  was  to 
wake  no  more. 

Burrus,  the  blunt  and  honest  old  soldier,  Captain  of 
the  Praetorian  Guard,  sided  with  Agrippina;  Brittani- 
cus,  the  son  of  Claudius,  was  kept  out  of  the  way,  and 
Nero  was  proclaimed  Emperor. 

Here  Seneca  seems  to  have  shown  his  good  influence, 
and  sent  home  a  desire  in  the  heart  of  Agrippina  to 
serve  her  people  with  moderation  and  justice.  She  had 
attained  her  ends — her  son,  a  youth  of  fifteen,  was  Em 
peror,  and  his  guardian,  the  great  and  gentle  Seneca, 
the  man  of  her  own  choosing,  was  the  actual  ruler.  She 
was  sister  to  one  Emperor,  wife  of  another,  and  now 
mother  of  a  third — surely  this  was  glory  enough  to 
satisfy  one  woman's  ambition! 

Then  there  came  to  Rome  the  famed  Quinquennium 
Neronis,  when,  for  five  years,  peace  and  plenty  smiled. 
It  is  a  trite  saying,  that  men  who  cannot  manage  their 
own  finances  can  look  after  those  of  a  nation,  but 
Seneca  was  a  business  man  who  proved  his  ability  to 


52 SENECA 

manage  his  own  private  affairs  and  also  succeeded  in 
managing  the  exchequer  of  a  kingdom.  During  his  reign, 
gladiatorial  contests  were  relieved  of  their  savage  bru 
tality,  work  was  given  to  many,  education  became 
popular,  and  people  said,  "  The  Age  of  Augustus  has  re 
turned." 

But  the  greatest  men  are  not  the  greatest  teachers. 
Seneca's  policy  with  his  pupil,  Nero,  was  one  of  con 
cession  jf  jf 

A  close  study  of  the  youth  of  Nero  reveals  the  same 
traits  that  outcrop  in  one-half  the  students  at  Harvard 
— traits  ill-becoming  to  grown-up  men,  but  not  at  all 
alarming  in  youth.  Nero  was  self-willed  and  occasion 
ally  had  tantrums — but  a  tantrum  is  only  a  little  whirl 
wind  of  misdirected  energy.  A  tantrum  is  life  plus — it  is 
better  far  than  stagnation,  and  usually  works  up  into 
useful  life,  and  sometimes  into  great  art.  We  have  some 
verses  written  by  Nero  in  his  seventeenth  year  that 
show  a  good  Class  B  sophomoric  touch.  He  danced, 
played  in  the  theatricals,  raced  horses,  fought  dogs, 
twanged  the  harp,  and  exploited  various  other  musical 
instruments.  He  was  n't  nearly  as  bad  as  Alcibiades, 
but  his  mother  lavished  on  him  her  maudlin  love,  and 
allowed  the  fallacy  to  grow  in  his  mind  concerning  the 
divinity  that  doth  hedge  a  king.  In  fact,  when  he  asked 
his  mother  about  his  real  father,  she  hid  the  truth  that 
his  father  was  a  rogue, — perhaps  to  shield  herself,  for 
it  is  only  a  very  great  person  who  can  tell  the  truth — 
and  led  him  to  believe  his  paternal  parent  was  a  god, 


SENECA 53 

and  his  birth  miraculous.  Now,  let  such  an  idea  get  into 
the  head  of  the  average  freshman  and  what  will  be  the 
result  ?  A  woman  can  tell  a  full-grown  man  that  he  is 
the  greatest  thing  that  ever  happened,  and  it  does  no 
special  harm,  for  the  man  knows  better  than  to  go  out 
on  the  street  and  proclaim  it,  but  you  tell  a  boy  of 
eighteen  such  pleasing  fallacies,  and  then  have  fawning 
courtiers  back  them  up,  and  at  the  same  time  give  the 
youth  free  access  to  the  strongbox,  and  it  surely  would 
be  a  miracle  if  he  is  not  doubly  damned,  and  quickly, 
too.  Agrippina  would  not  allow  the  blunt  old  Burrus  to 
discipline  her  boy,  and  Seneca's  plan  was  one  of  con 
cession — he  loved  peace.  He  hated  to  thwart  the  boy, 
because  he  knew  that  it  would  arouse  the  ire  of  the 
mother,  whose  love  had  run  away  with  her  common 
sense.  Love  is  beautiful, — soft,  yielding,  gentle  love, — 
but  the  common  law  of  England  upholds  wife-beating 
as  being  justifiable  and  desirable  on  certain  occasions. 
Q  The  real  trouble  was,  the  dam  was  out  for  Agrippina 
and  Nero — there  was  no  restraint  for  either.  There  was 
no  one  to  teach  them  that  the  liberty  of  one  man  ends 
where  the  right  of  another  begins.  No  more  frightful 
condition  for  any  man  or  woman  can  ever  occur  than 
this :  to  take  away  all  responsibility. 
When  Socrates  put  the  chesty  Alcibiades  three  points 
down,  and  jumped  on  his  stomach  with  his  knees,  the 
youth  had  a  month  in  bed,  and  after  he  got  around 
again  he  possessed  a  most  wholesome  regard  for  his 
teacher.  If  Burrus  and  Seneca  had  applied  Brockway 


54 SENECA 

methods  to  Agrippina  and  her  saucy  son,  as  they  easily 
might,  it  would  have  made  Rome  howl  with  delight, 
and  saved  the  state  as  well  as  the  individuals. 
Julius  Caesar,  like  Lincoln,  let  everybody  do  as  they 
wished,  up  to  a  certain  point.  But  all  realized  that 
somewhere  behind  that  dulcet  voice  and  the  gentle 
manner,  was  a  heart  of  flint  and  nerves  of  steel.  No 
woman  ever  made  Julius  Caesar  dance  to  syncopated 
time,  nor  did  a  youth  of  eighteen  ever  successfully 
order  him  to  take  part  in  amateur  theatricals  on  penalty. 
Julius  Caesar  and  Seneca  were  both  scholars,  both  were 
gentlemen  and  gentle  men :  their  mental  attitude  was 
much  the  same,  but  one  had  a  will  of  adamant,  and  the 
other  moved  in  the  line  of  least  resistance. 


GRADUALLY,  Nero  evolved  a  petulance  and 
impatience  toward  his  mother  and  tutor,  all  of 
which  was  quite  a  natural  consequence  of  his 
education.  Every  endeavor  to  restrain  him  was  met 
with  imprecations  and  curses.  About  then  would  have 
been  a  good  time  to  apply  heroic  treatment,  instead  of 
halting  fear  and  worshipful  acquiescence. 
The  raw  stock  for  making  a  Nero  is  in  every  school, 
and  given  the  conditions,  a  tyrant-culture  would  be  easy 
to  evolve.  The  endeavor  to  make  Nero  wed  Octavia, 
caused  a  revulsion  to  occur  in  his  heart  toward  her  and 
her  brother  Brittanicus.  He  feared  that  these  two 
might  combine  and  wrest  from  him  the  throne. 


SENECA 55 

Locusta,  the  specialist,  was  again  sent  for  and  Brit- 
tanicus  was  gathered  to  his  fathers. 
Soon  after,  Nero  fell  into  a  deep  infatuation  for  Poppse 
Sabina,  wife  of  Otho,  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  Rome. 
Sabina  refused  to  accept  his  advances  so  long  as  he  was 
tied  to  his  mother's  apron  strings, — I  use  the  exact 
phrase  of  Tacitus,  so  I  trust  no  exceptions  will  be  taken 
to  the  expression.  Nero  came  to  believe  that  the  tag 
ging,  nagging,  mushy  love  of  his  mother  was  standing 
in  the  way  of  his  advancement.  He  had  come  to  know 
that  Agrippina  had  caused  the  death  of  Claudius,  and 
when  she  accused  him  of  poisoning  Brittanicus,  he 
said,  "  I  learned  the  trick  from  my  dear  mother  !  "  and 
honors  were  even. 

He  knew  the  crafty  quality  of  his  mother's  mind  and 
grew  to  fear  her.  And  fear  and  hate  are  one.  To  secure 
Sabina  he  must  sacrifice  Agrippina. 
He  would  be  free. 

To  poison  her  would  not  do — she  was  an  expert  in 
preventatives. 

So  Nero,  regardless  of  expense,  bargained  with  Anice- 
tus,  admiral  of  the  fleet,  to  construct  a  ship,  so  that 
when  certain  bolts  were  withdrawn,  the  craft  would 
sink  and  tell  no  tale.  This  was  a  bit  of  daring  deviltry 
never  before  devised,  and  by  turn,  Nero  chuckled  in 
glee  and  had  cold  sweats  of  fear  as  he  congratulated 
himself  on  his  astuteness. 

The  boat  was  built  and  Agrippina  was  enticed  on 
board.  The  night  of  the  excursion  was  calm,  but  the 


56 SENECA 

conspirators,  fearing  the  chance  might  never  come 
again,  let  go  the  canopy,  loaded  with  lead,  which  was 
over  the  queen.  It  fell  with  a  crash ;  and  at  the  same 
time  the  bolts  were  withdrawn  and  the  waters  rushed 
in  &  & 

Several  of  the  servants  in  attendance  were  killed  by 
the  fall  of  the  awning,  but  Agrippina  and  Aceronia,  a 
lady  of  quality,  escaped  from  the  debris  only  slightly 
hurt.  Aceronia,  believing  the  ship  was  about  to  sink 
called  for  help,  saying  "I  am  Agrippina."  She  erred 
slightly  in  her  diplomacy,  for  she  was  at  once  struck 
on  the  head  with  an  oar  and  killed.  This  gave  Agrip 
pina  a  clue  to  the  situation  and  she  was  silent.  By  a 
strange  perversity,  the  royal  scuttling  patent  would 
not  work  and  the  boat  stubbornly  refused  to  sink. 
Agrippina  got  safely  ashore  and  sent  word  to  her  son 
that  there  had  been  a  terrible  accident,  but  she  was 
safe.  The  intent  of  her  letter  being  to  let  him  know 
that  she  understood  the  matter  perfectly,  and  while  she 
could  not  admire  the  job,  it  was  so  bungling,  yet  she 
would  forgive  him  if  he  would  not  try  it  again. 
In  wild  consternation,  Nero  sent  for  Burrus  and 
Seneca.  This  was  their  first  knowledge  of  the  affair. 
They  refused  to  act  in  either  way,  but  Burrus  intimated 
that  Anicetus  was  the  guilty  party  and  should  he  held 
responsible. 

"  For  not  completing  the  task?  "  said  Nero. 
"  Yes,"  said  the  blunt  old  soldier,  and  retired. 
Anicetus  was  notified  that   the   blame   of  the   whole 


SENECA 57 

conspiracy  was  on  him.  A  big  crime,  well  carried  out, 
is  its  own  excuse  for  being ;  but  failure,  like  unto  genius, 
is  unforgivable. 

Anicetus  was  in  disgrace,  but  only  temporarily,  for  he 
towed  the  obstinate,  tell-tale  galley  into  deep  water  and 
sunk  her  at  dead  of  night.  Then  with  a  few  faithful 
followers  he  surrounded  the  villa  where  Agrippina  was 
resting,  scattered  her  guard  and  confronted  her  with 
drawn  sword. 

Years  before,  a  soothsayer  had  told  her  that  her  son 
would  be  Emperor  and  that  he  would  kill  her.  Her 
answer  was,  "  Let  them  slay  me,  if  he  but  reign." 
Now  she  saw  that  death  was  nigh.  She  did  not  try  to 
escape,  nor  did  she  plead  for  mercy,  but  cried,  "  Plunge 
your  sword  through  my  womb,  for  it  bore  Nero." 
And  Anicetus,  with  one  blow,  struck  her  dead. 
Nero  returned  to  Naples  to  mourn  his  loss.  From  there 
he  sent  forth  a  lengthy  message  to  the  Senate,  re 
counting  the  accidental  shipwreck,  and  telling  how 
Agrippina  had  plotted  against  his  life,  recounting  her 
crimes  in  deprecatory,  sophistical  phrase.  The  docu 
ment  wound  up  by  telling  how  she  had  tried  to  secure 
the  throne  for  a  paramour,  and  the  truth  coming  to 
some  o'er-zealous  friends  of  the  state,  they  had  arisen 
and  taken  her  life. 

In  Rome  there  was  a  strong  feeling  that  Nero  should 
not  be  allowed  to  return,  but  this  message  of  explana 
tion  and  promise,  written  by  Seneca,  downed  the 
opposition. 


58 SENECA 

The  Senate  accepted  the  report,  and  Nero,  at  twenty- 
two,  found  himself  master  of  the  world. 
Yet  what  booted  it  when  he  was  not  master  of  himself! 
Q  From  this  time  on,  the  career  of  Seneca  was  one  of 
contumely,  suffering  and  disgrace.  This  was  to  endure 
for  six  years,  when  kindly  death  was  then  to  set  him 
free  &  # 

The  mutual,  guilty  knowledge  of  a  great  crime  breeds 
loathing  and   contempt.  History  contains  many  such 
instances   where   the   subject   had   knowledge   of  the 
sovereign's  sins,  and  the  sovereign  found  no  rest  until 
the  man  who  knew  was  beneath  the  sod. 
Seneca  knew  Nero  as  only  his  Maker  knew  him. 
After  the  first  spasm  of  exultation  in  being  allowed  to 
return  to  Rome,  a  jealous  dread  of  Seneca  came  over 
the  guilty  monarch. 

Seneca  hoped  against  hope  that  now  Nero's  wild  oats 
were  sown  and  the  crop  destroyed,  all  would  be  well. 
The  past  should  be  buried  and  remembrance  of  it  sunk 
deep  in  oblivion. 

But  Nero  feared  Seneca  might  expose  his  worthless- 
ness  and  the  philosopher  himself  take  the  reins.  In  this 
Nero  did  not  know  his  man:  Seneca's  love  was  literary — 
political  power  to  him  was  transient  and  not  worth 
while  #•  *T 

It  became  known  that  the  apology  to  the  Senate  was 
the  work  of  Seneca,  and  Nero,  who  wanted  the  world 
to  think  that  all  his  speeches  and  addresses  were  his 
own,  got  it  firmly  fixed  in  his  head  he  would  not  be 


SENECA 59 

happy  until  Seneca  was  out  of  the  way.  Sabina  said  he 
was  no  longer  a  boy,  and  should  not  be  tagged  and  dic 
tated  to  by  his  old  teacher. 

Seneca,  seeing  what  was  coming,  offered  to  give  his 
entire  property  to  the  state  and  retire.  Nero  would  not 
have  it  so — he  feared  Seneca  would  retire  only  to  come 
back  with  an  army.  A  cordon  of  spies  was  put  around 
Seneca's  house  —  he  was  practically  a  prisoner.  At 
tempts  were  made  to  poison  him,  but  he  ate  only  fruit, 
and  bread  made  by  his  wife,  Paulina,  and  drank  no 
water  excepting  from  running  streams. 
Finally  a  charge  of  conspiracy  was  fastened  upon  him, 
and  Nero  ordered  him  to  die  by  his  own  hand.  His 
wife  was  determined  to  go  with  him,  arid  one  stroke 
severed  the  veins  of  both. 

The  beautiful  Sabina  realized  her  hopes — she  divorced 
her  husband,  and  married  the  Emperor  of  Rome.  She 
died  from  a  sudden  kick  given  her  by  the  booted  foot  of 
her  liege. 

Three  years  after  the  death  of  Seneca,  Nero  passed 
hence  by  the  same  route,  killing  himself  to  escape  the 
fury  of  the  Praetorian  Guard.  And  so  ended  the  Julian 
line,  none  of  whom,  excepting  the  first,  was  a  Julian. 


FROM  the  death  of  Augustus  to  the  time  of  Nero 
there  was  for  Rome  a  steady  tide  of  disintegra 
tion.  The  Emperor  was  the  head  of  the  Church, 
and  he  usually  encouraged  the  idea  that  he  was  some- 


60 SENECA 

thing  different  from  common  men — that  his  mission  was 
from  On  High  and  that  he  should  be  worshiped.  Gibbon, 
making  a  free  translation  from  Seneca,  says,  "  Religion 
was  regarded  by  the  common  people  as  true,  by  the 
philosophers  as  false,  and  by  the  rulers  as  useful."  And 
St.  Augustine,  using  the  same  smoothly  polished  style, 
says  in  reference  to  a  Roman  Senator,  "  He  worshiped 
what  he  blamed,  he  did  what  he  refuted,  he  adored 
that  with  which  he  found  fault."  The  sentence  is 
Seneca's,  and  when  he  wrote  it  he  doubtless  had  him 
self  in  mind,  for  in  spite  of  his  Stoic  philosophy  the  life 
of  luxury  lured  him,  and  although  he  sang  the  praises 
of  poverty  he  charged  a  goodly  sum  for  so  doing,  and 
the  nobles  who  listened  to  him  doubtless  found  a  vi 
carious  atonement  by  applauding  him  as  he  played  to 
the  gallery  gods  of  their  self-esteem,  like  rich  ladies 
who  go  a-slumming,  mix  in  with  the  poor  on  an 
equality,  and  then  hasten  home  to  dress  for  dinner. 


SENECA  was  one  of  the  purest  and  loftiest  intel 
lects  the  world  has  ever  known.  Canon  Farrar 
calls  him  "  A  Seeker  after  God,"  and  has  printed 
parallel  passages  from  St.  Paul  and  Seneca  which,  for 
many,  seem  to  show  that  the  men  were  in  communi 
cation  with  each  other.  Every  ethical  maxim  of  Chris 
tianity  was  expressed  by  this  "noble  pagan,"  and  his 
influence  was  always  directed  toward  that  which  he 
thought  was  right.  His  mistakes  were  all  in  the  line  of 


SENECA 


61 


infirmities  of  the  will.  Voltaire  calls  him,  "  The  father 
of  all  those  who  wear  shovel  hats,"  and  in  another 
place  refers  to  him  as  an  "  amateur  ascetic,"  but  in  this 
the  author  of  the  Philosophical  Dictionary  pays  Seneca 
the  indirect  compliment  of  regarding  him  as  a  Christian. 
Renan  says,  "  Seneca  shines  out  like  a  great  white  star 
through  a  rift  of  clouds  on  a  night  of  darkness."  The 
wonder  is  not  that  Seneca  at  times  lapsed  from  his 
high  estate  and  manifested  his  Sophist  training,  but 
that  to  the  day  of  his  death  he  saw  the  truth  with  un 
blinking  eyes  and  held  the  Ideal  firmly  in  his  heart. 


SO  HERE  ENDETH  THE  LITTLE  JOURNEY  TO  THE 
HOME  OF  SENECA,  WRITTEN  BY  ELBERT  HUBBARD. 
BORDERS,  INITIALS  AND  ORNAMENTS  DESIGNED  BY 
ROYCROFT  ARTISTS,  PRESSWORK  BY  LOUIS  SCHELL, 
&  THE  WHOLE  DONE  INTO  A  BOOK  BY  THE  ROYCROFT- 
ERS  AT  THEIR  SHOP,  WHICH  IS  IN  EAST  AURORA,  IN 
THE  MONTH  OF  FEBRUARY,  IN  THE  YEAR  MCMIV  *  * 


TO   THE    HOMES    OF    GREAT    PHILOSOPHERS 


Vol.  XIV.  MARCH,  1904.  No.  3 


By  ELBERT  HUBBARD 


Single  Copies,  25  cents  By  the  Year,  $3.00 


LITTLE  JOURNEYS 

By  Rlbert  Hubbard  FOR   1904 

WILL     BE     TO     THE     HOMES  -OF 

GREAT  PHILOSOPHERS 


THE  SUBJECTS  AS  FOLLOWS 

i — Socrates  7— Immanuel  Kant 

*— Seneca  8— Huguate  Comte 

3— Hristotle  9 — Voltaire 

4 — JVIarcus  Hurelius  10 — Rerbert  Spencer 

5— Spinoza  i 1  —Schopenhauer 

6 — Swedenborg  i  2— Renry  Choreau 


One  booklet  a  month  will  be  issued  as  usual,  beginning  Jan 
uary  First.  The  LITTLE  JOURNEYS  for  Nineteen  Hun 
dred  Four  will  be  strictly  de  luxe  in  form  and  workmanship. 
The  type  will  be  a  new  font  of  antique  blackface ;  the  initials, 
borders  and  bands  designed  especially  for  this  work;  a 
frontispiece  portrait  from  the  original  drawing  made  at  our 
Shop.  The  booklets  will  be  stitched  by  hand  with  silk  ^ 

The  price— Twenty-five  cents  each,  or  $3.00  a  year 


Address  THE   ROYCROFTERS  at  their  Shop, 
which  is  at  East  Aurora,  Erie  County,  New  York 


Entered  at  the  postoffice  at  East  Aurora,  New  York,  for  transmission  as 
second-class  mail  matter.  Copyright,  1903,  by  Elbert  Hubbard 


Little 
Journeys 

TO    THE  HOMES    OF 

Great 
Philosophers 

Aristotle 

WRITTEN  BY  ELBERT 
HUBBARD  AND  DONE 
INTO  A  BOOK  BY  THE 
ROYCROFTERS,  AT 
THEIR  SHOP,  WHICH 
IS  IN  EAST  AURORA, 
NEW  YORK,  MCMIV 


HAPPINESS  itself  is  sufficient  excuse.  Beautiful  things  are  right 
and  true,  so  beautiful  actions  are  those  pleasing  to  the  gods. 
Wise  men  have  an  inward  sense  of  what  is  beautiful,  and  the  highest 
wisdom  is  to  trust  this  intuition  and  be  guided  by  it.  The  answer  to 
the  last  appeal  of  what  is  right  lies  within  a  man's  own  breast.  Trust 
thyself!  ETHICS  OF  ARISTOTLE. 


Aristotle 


ARISTOTLE 

|HE  'Sublime  Porte  recently  issued  a  re 
quest  to  the  American  Bible  Society, 
asking  that  references  to  Macedonia  be 
omitted  from  all  Bibles  circulated  in 
Turkey  or  Turkish  provinces.  The  argu 
ment  of  his  Sublimity  is  that  the  Mace 
donian  cry,  "  Come  over  and  help  us  !  " 
puts  him  and  his  people  in  a  bad  light. 
He  ends  his  most  courteous  petition  by 
saying,"  The  land  that  produced  a  Philip, 
an  Alexander  the  Great  and  an  Aristotle, 
and  that  to-day  has  citizens  who  are  the 
equal  of  these,  needs  nothing  from  our 
dear  brothers,  the  Americans,  but  to  be 
let  alone." 

As  to  the  statement  that  Macedonia  to 
day  has  citizens  who  are  the  equals  of 
Philip,  Alexander  and  Aristotle,  the 
proposition,  probably,  is  based  on  the 
confession  of  the  citizens  themselves, 
and  therefore  may  be  truth.  Great  men 
are  only  great  comparatively.  It  is  the 
stupidity  of  the  many  that  allows  one 
man  to  bestride  the  narrow  world  like  a 
Colossus.  In  the  time  of  Alexander  and 
Aristotle  there  was  n't  so  much  compe 
tition  as  now,  so  perhaps  what  we  take 
to  be  lack  of  humor  on  the  part  of  the 
Sublime  Porte  may  have  a  basis  in  fact. 


64 ARISTOTLE 

Q  Aristotle  was  born  384  B.  C.  at  the  village  of  Stagira  in 
the  mountains  of  Macedonia.  King  Amyntas  used  to 
live  at  Stagira  several  months  in  the  year  and  hunt  the 
wild  hogs  that  fed  on  the  acorns  which  grew  in  the 
gorges  and  valleys.  Mountain  climbing  and  hunting 
was  dangerous  sport,  and  it  was  well  to  have  a  surgeon 
attached  to  the  royal  party,  so  the  father  of  Aristotle 
served  in  that  capacity.  No  doubt,  though,  but  the 
whole  outfit  was  decidedly  barbaric,  even  including  the 
doctor's  little  son  "  Aristo,"  who  refused  to  be  left  be 
hind.  The  child's  mother  had  died  years  before,  and 
boys  without  mothers  are  apt  to  manage  their  fathers. 
And  so  Aristo  was  allowed  to  trot  along  by  his  father's 
side,  carrying  a  formidable  bow,  which  he  himself  had 
made,  with  a  quiver  of  arrows  at  his  back. 
Those  were  great  times  when  the  King  came  to  Stagira! 
Q  When  the  King  went  back  to  the  capital  everybody 
received  presents,  and  the  good  doctor,  by  some  chance, 
was  treated  best  of  all,  and  little  Aristo  came  in  for  the 
finest  bow  that  ever  was,  all  tipped  with  silver  and 
eagle  feathers.  But  the  bow  did  not  bring  good  luck,  for 
soon  after,  the  boy's  father  was  caught  in  an  avalanche 
of  sliding  stone  and  crushed  to  death. 
Aristo  was  taken  in  charge  by  Proxenus,  a  near  kins 
man.  The  lad  was  so  active  at  climbing,  so  full  of  life 
and  energy  and  good  spirits  that  when  the  King  came 
the  next  year  to  Stagira,  he  asked  for  Aristo.  "With  the 
King  was  his  son  Philip,  a  lad  about  the  age  of  Aristo, 
but  not  so  tall  nor  so  active.  The  boys  became  fast 


ARISTOTLE 65 

friends,  and  once  when  a  stranger  saw  them  together  he 
complimented  the  King  on  his  fine,  intelligent  boy,  and 
the  King  had  to  explain,  "the  other  boy  is  mine — but 
I  wish  they  both  were." 

Aristo  knew  where  the  wild  boars  fed  in  gulches, 
where  the  stunted  oaks  grew  close  and  thick.  Higher 
up  in  the  mountains  there  were  bears,  that  occasionally 
came  down  and  made  the  wild  pigs  scamper.  You 
could  always  tell  when  the  bears  were  around,  for  then 
the  little  pigs  would  run  out  into  the  open.  The  bears 
had  a  liking  for  little  pigs,  and  the  bears  had  a  liking 
for  the  honey  in  the  bee  trees,  too.  Aristo  could  find 
the  bee  trees  better  than  the  bears — all  you  had  to  do 
was  to  watch  the  flight  of  the  bees  as  they  left  the 
clover  <r  & 

Then  there  were  deer — you  could  see  their  tracks  any 
time  around  the  mountain  marshes  where  the  springs 
gushed  forth  and  the  watercress  grew  lush.  Still  higher 
up  the  mountains,  beyond  where  bears  ever  traveled, 
there  were  mountain-sheep,  and  still  higher  up  were 
goats.  The  goats  were  so  wild  hardly  any  one  but  Aristo 
had  ever  seen  them,  but  he  knew  they  were  there. 
The  King  was  delighted  to  have  such  a  lad  as  compan 
ion  for  his  son,  and  insisted  that  he  should  go  back  to 
the  capital  with  them  and  become  a  member  of  the 
Court  <T  <T 
Would  he  go  ? 

Not  he — there  were  other  ambitions.  He  wanted  to  go 
to  Athens  and  study  at  the  school  of  Plato — Plato,  the 


66 ARISTOTLE 

pupil  of  the  great  Socrates.  Q  The  King  laughed — he 

had  never  heard  of  Plato.  That  a  youth  should  refuse 

to  become  part  of  the  Macedonian  Court,  preferring  the 

company  of  an  unknown  schoolmaster,  was  amusing — 

he  laughed. 

The  next  year  when  the  King  came  back  to  Stagira, 

Aristo   was   still  there.  "And   you   have  n't  gone  to 

Athens  yet  ?  "  said  the  King. 

"  No,  but  I  am  going,"  was  the  firm  reply. 

"We  will   send    him,"  said   the    King  to    Proxenus, 

Aristo 's  guardian. 

And  so  we  find  Aristo,  aged  seventeen,  tall  and  straight 

and  bronzed,  starting  off  for  Athens,  his  worldly  goods 

rolled  up  in  a  bearskin,  tied  about  with  thongs.  There 

is  a  legend  to  the  effect  that  Philip  went  with  Aristo, 

and   that   for   a  time   they   were   together  at  Plato's 

school.    But,    anyway,    Philip   did   not   remain    long. 

Aristo — or  Aristotle,  we  had  better  call  him — remained 

with  Plato  just  twenty  years. 

At  Plato's  school  Aristotle  was  called  by -the  boys, 

"  the  Stagirite,"  a  name  that  was  to  last  him  through  life 

— and  longer.  In  winter  he  wore  his  bearskin,  caught 

over  one  shoulder,  for  a  robe,  and  his  mountain  grace 

and  native  beauty  of  mind  and  body  must  have  been  a 

joy  to  Plato  from  the  first.  Such  a  youth  could  not  be 

overlooked. 

To  him  that  hath  shall  be  given.  The  pupil  that  wants  to 

learn  is  the  teacher's  favorite — which  is  just  as  it  should 

not  be.  Plato  proved  his  humanity  by  giving  his  all  to 


ARISTOTLE 67 

the  young  mountaineer.  Plato  was  then  a  little  over 
sixty  years  of  age — about  the  same  age  that  Socrates 
was  when  Plato  became  his  pupil.  But  the  years  had 
touched  Plato  lightly — unlike  Socrates,  he  had  endured 
no  Thracian  winters  in  bare  feet,  neither  had  he  lived 
on  cold  snacks  picked  up  here  and  there,  as  Providence 
provided.  Plato  was  a  bachelor.  He  still  wore  the  pur 
ple  robe,  proud,  dignified,  yet  gentle,  and  his  back  was 
straight  as  that  of  a  youth.  Lowell  once  said,  ""When 
I  hear  Plato's  name  mentioned,  I  always  think  of 
George  William  Curtis — a  combination  of  pride  and 
intellect,  a  man's  strength  fused  with  a  woman's  gen 
tleness."  *r  # 

Plato  was  an  aristocrat.  He  accepted  only  such  pupils 
as  he  invited,  or  those  that  were  sent  by  royalty.  Like 
Franz  Liszt,  he  charged  no  tuition,  which  plan,  by  the 
way,  is  a  good  scheme  for  getting  more  money  than 
could  otherwise  be  obtained,  although  no  such  selfish 
charge  should  be  brought  against  either  Plato  or  Liszt. 
Yet  every  benefit  must  be  paid  for,  and  whether  you 
use  the  word  fee  or  honorarium,  matters  little.  I  hear 
there  be  lecturers  who  accept  invitations  to  banquets 
and  accept  an  honorarium  mysteriously  placed  on  the 
mantel,  when  they  would  scorn  a  fee. 
Plato's  garden  school,  where  the  pupils  reclined  under 
the  trees  on  marble  benches,  and  read  and  talked,  or 
listened  to  lectures  by  the  Master,  was  almost  an  ideal 
place.  Not  the  ideal  for  us,  because  we  believe  that  the 
mental  and  manual  must  go  hand  in  hand.  The  world 


68 ARISTOTLE 

of  intellect  should  not  be  separated  from  the  world  of 
work.  It  was  too  much  to  expect  that  in  a  time  when 
slavery  was  everywhere,  Plato  would  see  the  fallacy 
of  having  one  set  of  men  to  do  the  thinking,  and  another 
do  the  work.  We  have  n't  got  far  from  that  yet :  only 
free  men  can  see  the  whole  truth,  and  a  free  man  is 
one  who  lives  in  a  country  where  there  are  no  slaves. 
To  own  slaves  is  to  be  one,  and  to  live  in  a  land  of 
slavery  is  to  share  in  the  bondage — a  partaker  in  the 
infamy  and  profits. 

Plato  and  Aristotle  became  fast  friends — comrades. 
With  thinking  men  years  do  not  count — only  those 
grow  old  who  think  by  proxy.  Plato  had  no  sons  after 
the  flesh,  and  the  love  of  his  heart  went  out  to  the 
Stagirite:  in  him  he  saw  his  own  life  projected. 
When  Aristotle  had  turned  twenty  he  was  acquainted 
with  all  the  leading  thinkers  of  his  time ;  he  read  con 
stantly,  wrote,  studied  and  conversed. The  little  property 
his  father  left  had  come  to  him ;  the  King  of  Macedon 
sent  him  presents ;  and  he  taught  various  pupils  from 
wealthy  families — finances  were  easy.  But  success 
did  not  spoil  him.  The  brightest  scholars  do  not  make 
the  greatest  success  in  life,  because  alma  mater  usually 
catches  them  for  teachers.  Sometimes  this  is  well,  but 
more  often  it  is  not.  Plato  would  not  hear  of  Aristotle 
leaving  him,  and  so  he  remained,  the  chief  ornament 
and  practical  leader  of  the  school. 

He  became  rich,  owned  the  largest  private  library  at 
Athens  and  was  universally  regarded  as  the  most 


ARISTOTLE 69 

learned  man  of  his  time.  Q  In  many  ways  he  had  sur 
passed  Plato.  He  delved  into  natural  history,  collected 
plants,  rocks,  animals,  and  made  studies  of  the  practi 
cal  workings  of  economic  schemes.  He  sought  to  divest 
the  Platonic  teaching  of  its  poetry,  discarded  rhetoric, 
and  tried  to  get  at  the  simple  truth  of  all  subjects. 
Toward  the  last  of  Plato's  career  this  repudiation  by 
Aristotle  of  poetry,  rhetoric,  elocution  and  the  polite  ac 
complishments  caused  a  schism  to  break  out  in  the 
Garden  School.  Plato's  head  was  in  the  clouds  at  times, 
Aristotle's  was  too,  but  his  feet  were  always  on  the 
earth  &  4f 

When  Plato  died,  Aristotle  was  his  natural  successor 
as  leader  of  the  school,  but  there  was  opposition  to 
him,  both  on  account  of  his  sturdy,  independent  ways 
and  because  he  was  a  foreigner. 

He  left  Athens  to  become  a  member  of  the  Court  of 
Hermias,  a  former  pupil,  now  King  of  Atarneus. 
He  remained  here  long  enough  to  marry  the  niece  of 
his  patron,  and  doubtless  saw  himself  settled  for  life — 
a  kingly  crown  within  his  reach  should  his  student- 
sovereign  pass  away. 

And  the  royal  friend  did  pass  away,  by  the  dagger's 
route.  As  life  insurance  risks  I  am  told  that  Kings  have 
to  pay  double  premium.  Revolution  broke  out,  and  as 
Aristotle  was  debating  in  his  mind  what  course  to  pur 
sue,  a  messenger  with  soldiers  arrived  from  King  Philip 
of  Macedon,  offering  safe  convoy,  enclosing  transpor 
tation,  and  asking  that  Aristotle  come  and  take  charge 


TO ARISTOTLE 

of  the  education  of  his  son,  Alexander,  aged  thirteen. 
Q  Aristotle  did  not  wait  to  parley :  he  accepted  the  in 
vitation.  Horses  were  saddled,  camels  packed  and  that 
night,  before  the  moon  arose,  the  cavalcade  silently 
moved  out  into  the  desert. 


THE  offer  that  had  been  made  twenty-four  years 
before,  by  Philip's  father,  was  now  accepted. 
Aristotle  was  forty-two  years  old,  in  the  prime 
of  his  power.  Time  had  tempered  his  passions,  but  not 
subdued  his  zest  in  life.  He  had  the  curious,  receptive, 
alert  and  eager  mind  of  a  child.  His  intellect  was  at  its 
ripest  and  best.  He  was  a  lover  of  animals,  and  all  out 
door  life  appealed  to  him  as  it  does  to  a  growing  boy. 
He  was  a  daring  horseman,  and  we  hear  of  his  riding 
off  into  the  desert  and  sleeping  on  the  sands,  his  horse 
untethered  watching  over  him.  Aristotle  was  the  first 
man  to  make  a  scientific  study  of  the  horse,  and  with  the 
help  of  Alexander  he  set  up  a  skeleton,  fastening  the 
bones  in  place,  to  the  mighty  astonishment  of  the  na 
tives,  who  mistook  the  feat  for  an  attempt  to  make  a 
living  animal;  and  when  the  beast  was  not  at  last 
saddled  and  bridled  there  were  subdued  chuckles  of 
satisfaction  among  the  hoi  polloi  at  the  failure  of  the 
scheme,  and  murmurs  of  "  I  told  you  so !  " 
Eighteen  hundred  years  were  to  pass  before  another 
man  was  to  take  up  the  horse  as  a  serious  scientific 
study ;  and  this  was  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  a  man  in  many 


ARISTOTLE 71 

ways  very  much  like  Aristotle.  The  distinguishing 
feature  in  these  men— the  thing  that  differentiates  them 
from  other  men — was  that  great  outpouring  sympathy 
with  every  living  creature.  Everything  they  saw  was 
related  to  themselves — it  came  very  close  to  them — 
they  wanted  to  know  more  about  it.  This  is  essentially 
the  child-mind,  and  the  calamity  of  life  is  to  lose  it. 
Q  Leonardo  became  interested  in  Aristotle's  essay  on 
the  horse,  and  continued  the  subject  further,  dissecting 
the  animal  in  minutest  detail  and  illustrating  his  dis 
coveries  by  painstaking  drawings.  His  work  is  so  com 
plete  and  exhaustive  that  nobody  nowadays  has  time 
to  more  than  read  the  title  page.  Leonardo's  bent  was 
natural  science,  and  his  first  attempts  at  drawing  were 
done  to  illustrate  his  books.  Art  was  beautiful,  ot 
course — it  brought  in  an  income,  made  friends  and 
brought  him  close  to  people  who  saw  nothing  unless 
you  made  a  picture  of  it.  He  made  pictures  for  recre 
ation  and  to  amuse  folks,  and  his  threat  to  put  the 
peeping  Prior  into  the  "  Last  Supper,"  posed  as  Judas, 
revealed  his  contempt  for  the  person  to  whom  a  picture 
was  just  a  picture.  The  marvel  to  Leonardo  was  the 
mind  that  could  imagine,  the  hand  that  could  execute, 
and  the  soul  that  could  see. 

And  the  curious  part  is  that  Leonardo  lives  for  us 
through  his  play  and  not  through  his  serious  work.  His 
science  has  been  superseded,  but  his  art  is  immortal. 
Q  This  expectant  mental  attitude,  this  attitude  of  wor 
ship,  belongs  to  all  great  scientists.  The  man  divines 


72 ARISTOTLE 

the  thing  first  and  then  looks  for  it,  just  as  the  Herschels 
knew  where  the  star  ought  to  be  and  then  patiently 
waited  for  it.  The  Bishop  of  London  said  that  if  Dar 
win  had  spent  one-half  as  much  time  in  reading  his 
Bible  as  in  studying  earth-worms  he  would  have  really 
benefited  the  world,  and  saved  his  soul  alive.  To  Walt 
Whitman,  a  hair  on  the  back  of  his  hand  was  just  as 
curious  and  wonderful  as  the  stars  in  the  sky,  or  God's 
revelation  to  man  through  a  printed  book. 
Aristotle  loved  animals  as  a  boy  loves  them — his  house 
was  a  regular  menagerie  of  pets,  and  into  this  world  of 
life  Alexander  was  very  early  introduced.  We  hear  of 
young  Alexander  breaking  the  wild  horse,  Bucephalus, 
and  beyond  a  doubt  Aristotle  was  seated  on  the  top 
rail  of  the  paddock  when  he  threw  the  lariat. 
Aristotle  and  his  pupil  had  the  first  circus  of  which  we 
know,  and  they  also  inaugurated  the  first  Zoological 
Garden  mentioned  in  history,  barring  Noah,  of  course. 
Of  So  much  was  Alexander  bound  up  in  this  menagerie 
and  in  his  old  teacher  as  well,  that  in  after  life,  in  all  of 
his  travels,  he  was  continually  sending  back  to  Aristotle 
specimens  of  every  sort  of  bird,  beast  and  fish  to  be 
found  in  the  countries  through  which  he  traveled. 
When  Philip  was  laid  low  by  the  assassin's  thrust  it 
was  Aristotle  who  backed  up  Alexander,  aged  twenty 
— but  a  man — in  his  prompt  suppression  of  the  revolu 
tion.  The  will  that  had  been  used  to  subdue  man-eating 
stallions  and  to  train  wild  animals,  now  came  in  to  re 
press  riot,  and  the  systematic  classification  of  things 


ARISTOTLE  _  73 

was  a  preparation  for  the  forming  of  an  army  out  of  a 
mob.  Aristotle  said,  "An  army  is  a  huge  animal  with  a 
million  claws  —  it  must  have  only  one  brain  and  that 
the  commander's." 

Alexander  gave  credit  again  and  again  to  Aristotle  for 
those  elements  in  his  character  that  went  to  make  up 
success  :  steadiness  of  purpose,  self-reliance,  sys 
tematic  effort,  mathematical  calculation,  attention  to 
details,  and  a  broad  and  generous  policy  that  sees  the 


When  Aristotle  argued  with  Philip,  years  before,  that 
horse-breaking  should  be  included  in  the  educational 
curriculum  of  all  young  men,  he  evidently  divined 
football  and  was  endeavoring  to  supplant  it. 


I  THINK  history  has  been  a  trifle  severe  on  Alex 
ander.  He  was  elected  Captain- General  of  Greece, 
and  ordered  to  repel  the  Persian  invasion.  And  he 
did  the  business  once  for  all.  War  is  not  all  fighting- 
providence  is  on  the  side  of  the  strongest  commissariat. 
Alexander  had  to  train,  arm,  clothe  and  feed  a  million 
men,  and  march  them  long  miles  across  a  desert 
country.  The  real  foe  of  a  man  is  in  his  own  heart,  and 
the  foe  of  an  army  is  in  its  own  camp — disease  takes 
more  prisoners  than  the  enemy.  Fever  sniped  more  of 
our  boys  in  blue  than  did  the  hostile  Filipinos. 
Alexander's  losses  were  principally  from  men  slain  in 
battle ;  from  this,  I  take  it  that  Alexander  knew  a  deal 


74 ARISTOTLE 

of  sanitary  science,  and  had  a  knowledge  of  practical 
mathematics  in  order  to  systematize  that  mob  of  rest 
less,  turbulent  helots.  We  hear  of  Aristotle  cautioning 
him  that  safety  lies  in  keeping  his  men  busy — they 
must  not  have  too  much  time  to  think,  otherwise 
mutiny  is  to  be  feared.  Still,  they  must  not  be  over 
worked,  or  they  will  be  in  no  condition  to  fight  when 
the  eventful  time  occurs.  And  we  are  amazed  to  see 
this,  "  Do  not  let  your  men  drink  out  of  stagnant  pools 
— Athenians,  city-born,  know  no  better.  And  when  you 
carry  water  on  the  desert  marches,  it  should  be  first 
boiled  to  prevent  its  getting  sour." 

Concerning  the  Jews,  Alexander  writes  to  his  teacher 
and  says,  "They  are  apt  to  be  in  sullen  rebellion 
against  their  governors,  receiving  orders  only  from 
their  high-priests,  and  this  leads  to  severe  measures, 
which  are  construed  as  persecution;"  all  of  which 
might  have  been  written  yesterday  by  the  Czar  in  a 
message  to  The  Hague  Convention. 
Alexander  captured  the  East,  and  was  taken  captive  by 
the  East.  Like  the  male  bee  that  never  lives  to  tell  the 
tale  of  its  wooing,  he  succeeded  and  died.  Yet  he  vital 
ized  all  Asia  with  the  seeds  of  Greek  philosophy,  turned 
back  the  hungry  barbaric  tide,  and  made  a  new  map  of 
the  Eastern  world.  He  built  far  more  cities  than  he 
destroyed.  He  set  Andrew  Carnegie  an  example  at 
Alexandria,  such  as  the  world  had  never  up  to  that 
time  seen.  At  the  entrance  to  the  harbor  of  the  same 
city  he  erected  a  lighthouse,  surpassing  far  the  one  at 


ARISTOTLE  75 

Minot's  Ledge,  or  Race  Rock.  This  structure  endured 
for  two  centuries,  and  when  at  last  wind  and  weather 
had  their  way,  there  was  no  Hopkinson  Smith  who 
could  erect  another. 

At  Thebes,  Alexander  paid  a  compliment  to  letters,  by 
destroying  every  building  in  the  city  excepting  the 
house  of  the  poet,  Pindar.  At  Corinth,  when  the  great, 
the  wise,  the  noble,  came  to  pay  homage,  one  great 
man  did  not  appear.  In  vain  did  Alexander  look  for  his 
card  among  all  those  handed  in  at  the  door — Diogenes, 
the  Philosopher,  oft  quoted  by  Aristotle,  was  not  to  be 
seen  #  & 

Alexander  went  out  to  hunt  him  up,  and  found  him 
sunning  himself,  propped  up  against  the  wall  in  the 
Public  Square,  busy  doing  nothing. 
The  philosopher  did  not  arise  to  greet  the  conqueror — 
he  did  not  even  offer  a  nod  of  recognition.  "  I  am  Alex 
ander — is  there  not  something  I  can  do  for  you?" 
modestly  asked  the  descendant  of  Hercules. "  Just  stand 
out  from  between  me  and  the  sun,"  replied  the  phi 
losopher,  and  went  on  with  his  meditations. 
Alexander  enjoyed  the  reply  so  much  that  he  said  to 
his  companions,  and  afterward  wrote  to  Aristotle,  "  If 
I  were  not  Alexander,  I  would  be  Diogenes,"  and  thus 
did  strenuosity  pay  its  tribute  to  self-sufficiency. 


76 ARISTOTLE 

ARISTOTLE  might  have  assumed  important  af 
fairs  of  State,  but  practical  politics  were  not  to 
his  liking.  "  What  Aristotle  is  in  the  world  of 
thought  I  will  be  in  the  world  of  action,"  said  Alexander. 
Q  On  all  of  his  journeys  Alexander  found  time  to  keep 
in  touch  with  his  old  teacher  at  home ;  and  we  find  the 
ruler  of  Asia  voicing  that  old  request,  "  Send  me  some 
thing   to   read,"  and   again,    "1   live   alone   with   my 
thoughts,  amidst  a  throng  of  men,  but  without  com 
panions."  jf  jf 

Plutarch  gives  a  copy  of  a  letter  sent  by  Alexander 
wherein  Aristotle  is  chided  for  publishing  his  lecture 
on  oratory.  "Now  all  the  world  will  know  what  for 
merly  belonged  to  you  and  I  alone,"  plaintively  cries 
the  young  man  who  sighed  for  more  worlds  to  conquer, 
and  therein  shows  he  was  the  victim  of  a  fallacy  that 
will  never  die — the  idea  that  truth  can  be  embodied  in 
a  book.  When  will  we  ever  learn  that  inspired  books 
demand  inspired  readers ! 

There  are  no  secrets.  A  book  may  stimulate  thought 
but  it  can  never  impart  it. 

Aristotle  wrote  out  the   Laws   of  Oratory.  "Alas!" 
groans  Alexander,  "everybody  will  turn  orator  now." 
But  he  was  wrong,  because  Oratory  and  the  Laws  of 
Oratory  are  totally  different  things. 
A  Boston  man  of  excellent  parts  has  recently  given  out 
the  Sixteen  Perfective  Laws  of  Oratory,  and  the  Nine 
teen  Steps  in  Evolution. 
The  real  truth   is,  there  are  Fifty-seven  Varieties  of 


ARISTOTLE 77 

artistic  vagaries,  and  all  are  valuable  to  the  man  who 
evolves  them — they  serve  him  as  a  scaffolding  whereby 
he  builds  thought.  But  woe  betide  Alexander  and  all 
rare-ripe  Bostonians  who  mistake  the  scaffolding  for 
the  edifice. 

There  are  no  Laws  of  Art.  A  man  evolves  first,  and 
builds  his  laws  afterward.  The  style  is  the  man,  and  a 
great  man,  full  of  the  spirit,  will  express  himself  in  his 
own  way. 

Bach  ignored  all  the  Laws  of  Harmony  made  before 
his  day  and  set  down  new  ones — and  these  marked  his 
limitations,  that  was  all.  Beethoven  upset  all  these, 
and  Wagner  succeeded  by  breaking  most  of  Beethoven's 
rules.  And  now  comes  Grieg,  and  writes  harmonious 
discords  that  Wagner  said  were  impossible,  and  still  it 
is  music,  for  by  it  we  are  transported  on  the  wings  of 
song  and  uplifted  to  the  stars. 

The  individual  soul  striving  for  expression  ignores  all 
man-made  laws.  Truth  is  that  which  serves  us  best  in 
expressing  our  lives.  A  rotting  log  is  truth  to  a  bed  of 
violets,  while  sand  is  truth  to  a  cactus.  But  when  the 
violet  writes  a  book  on  "Expression  as  I  have  Found 
It,"  making  laws  for  the  evolution  of  beautiful  blossoms, 
it  leaves  the  Century  Plant  out  of  its  equation,  or  else 
swears,  i'  faith,  that  a  cactus  is  not  a  flower,  and  that 
a  Night-blooming  Cereus  is  a  disordered  thought  from 
a  madman's  brain.  And  when  the  proud  and  lofty  cac 
tus  writes  a  book  it  never  mentions  violets  because  it 
has  never  stooped  to  seek  them. 


78 ARISTOTLE 

Art  is  the  blossoming  of  the  Soul.  Q  We  cannot  make 
the  plant  blossom — all  we  can  do  is  to  comply  with  the 
conditions  of  growth.  We  can  supply  the  sunshine, 
moisture  and  aliment,  and  God  does  the  rest.  In  teach 
ing,  he  only  is  successful  who  supplies  the  conditions 
of  growth — that  is  all  there  is  of  the  Science  of  Peda 
gogics,  which  is  not  a  science,  and  if  it  ever  becomes 
one,  it  will  be  the  Science  of  Letting  Alone,  and  not  a 
scheme  of  interference.  Just  so  long  as  some  of  the 
greatest  men  are  those  who  have  broken  through  peda 
gogic  fancy  and  escaped,  succeeding  by  breaking  every 
rule  of  pedagogy,  as  'Wagner  discarded  every  Law  of 
Harmony,  there  will  be  no  such  thing  as  a  Science  of 
Education. 

Recently  1  read  Aristotle's  Essays  on  Rhetoric  and 
Oratory,  and  I  was  pained  to  see  how  I  had  been 
plagiarized  by  this  man  who  wrote  three  hundred  years 
before  Christ.  Aristotle  used  charts  in  teaching  and  in 
dicated  the  mean  by  a  straight  horizontal  line,  and  the 
extreme  by  an  upright  dash.  He  says,  "  From  one  ex 
treme  the  mean  looks  extreme,  and  from  another  ex 
treme  the  mean  looks  small — it  all  depends  upon  your 
point  of  view.  Beware  of  jumping  to  conclusions,  for 
beside  the  appearance  you  must  look  within  and  see 
from  what  vantage  ground  you  gain  the  conclusions. 
All  truth  is  relative,  and  none  can  be  final  to  a  man  six 
feet  high,  who  stands  on  the  ground,  who  can  walk  but 
forty  miles  at  a  stretch,  who  needs  four  meals  a  day 
and  one-third  of  his  time  for  sleep.  A  loss  of  sleep,  or 


ARISTOTLE 79 

loss  of  a  meal,  or  a  meal  too  much,  will  disarrange  his 
point  of  view,  and  change  his  opinions."  And  thus  do 
we  see  that  a  belief  in  "  eternal  punishment "  is  a  mere 
matter  of  indigestion. 

A  certain  bishop,  we  have  seen,  experienced  a  regret 
that  Darwin  expended  so  much  time  on  earthworms ; 
and  we  might  also  express  regret  that  Aristotle  did  not 
spend  more.  As  long  as  he  confined  himself  to  earth, 
he  was  eminently  sure  and  right :  he  was  really  the 
first  man  who  ever  used  his  eyes.  But  when  he  quit 
the  earth,  and  began  to  speculate  about  the  condition 
of  souls  before  they  are  clothed  with  bodies,  or  what 
becomes  of  them  after  they  discard  the  body,  or  the 
nature  of  God,  he  shows  that  he  knew  no  more  than 
we.  That  is  to  say,  he  knew  no  more  than  the  barbarians 
who  preceded  him. 

He  attempted  to  grasp  ideas  which  Herbert  Spencer 
pigeonholes  forever  as  the  Unknowable ;  and  in  some 
of  his  endeavors  to  make  plain  the  unknowable,  Aris 
totle  strains  language  to  the  breaking  point — the  net 
bursts  &  all  of  his  fish  go  free.  Here  is  an  Aristotelian 
proposition,  expressed  by  Hegel  to  make  lucid  a  thing 
nobody  comprehends :  "  Essential  being  as  being  that 
meditates  with  itself,  with  itself  by  the  negativity  of 
itself,  is  relative  to  itself  only  as  it  is  relative  to  another; 
that  is,  immediate  only  as  something  posited  and  medi 
tated."  It  gives  one  a  slight  shock  to  hear  him  speak 
of  headache  being  caused  by  wind  on  the  brain ;  or 
powdered  grasshopper  wings  being  a  cure  for  gout,  but 


8o ARISTOTLE 

when  he  calls  the  heart  a  pump  that  forces  the  blood 
to  the  extremities,  we  see  that  he  anticipates  Harvey, 
although  two  thousand  years  of  night  lie  between 
them  &  If 

Some   of  Aristotle  reads  about  like  this  Geometrical 
Domestic  Equation.  Definitions : 
All  boarding-houses  are  the  same  boarding-houses. 
Boarders  in  the  same  boarding-house,  and  on  the  same 
flat,  are  equal  to  each  other. 

A  single  room  is  that  which  hath  no  parts  and  no  mag 
nitude  #  & 

The  landlady  of  the  boarding-house  is  a  parallelogram 
— that  is,  an  oblong  figure  that  cannot  be  described,  and 
is  equal  to  anything. 

A  wrangle  is  the  disinclination  to  each  other  of  two 
boarders  that  meet  together,  but  are  not  on  the  same 
floor  &  & 

All  the  other  rooms  being  taken,  a  single  room  is  a 
double  room. 

Postulates  and  Propositions : 
A  pie  may  be  produced  any  number  of  times. 
The  landlady  may  be  reduced  to  her  lowest  terms  by 
a  series  of  propositions. 

A  bee-line  is  the  shortest  distance  between  the  Pha- 
lansterie  and  By  Allen's. 

The  clothes  of  a  boarding-house  bed  stretched  both 
ways  will  not  meet. 

Any  two  meals  at  a  boarding-house  are  together  less 
than  one  meal  at  the  Phalansterie. 


ARISTOTLE 81 

On  the  same  bill  and  on  the  same  side  of  it  there 
should  not  be  two  charges  for  the  same  thing. 
If  there  be  two  boarders  on  the  same  floor,  and  the 
amount  of  the  side  of  the  one  be  equal  to  the  amount 
of  the  side  of  the  other,  and  the  wrangle  between  the 
one  boarder  and  the  landlady  be  equal  to  the  wrangle 
between  the  landlady  and  the  other  boarder,  then  shall 
the  weekly  bills  of  the  two  boarders  be  equal.  For,  if 
not,  let  one  bill  be  the  greater,  then  the  other  bill  is  less 
than  it  might  have  been,  which  is  absurb.  Therefore 
the  bills  are  equal.  Quod  erat  demonstrandum. 


THE  business  of  the  old  philosophers  was  to  phi 
losophize.  To  philosophize  as  a  business,  is  to 
miss  the  highest  philosophy.  To  do  a  certain 
amount  of  useful  work  every  day,  and  not  trouble 
about  either  the  past  or  future,  is  the  highest  wisdom. 
The  man  who  drags  the  past  behind  him,  and  dives 
into  the  future,  spreads  the  present  out  thin.  Therein 
lies  the  bane  of  most  religions.  A  man  goes  out  into  the 
woods  to  study  the  birds :  he  walks  and  walks  and 
walks  and  sees  no  birds.  But  just  let  him  sit  down  on  a 
log  and  wait,  and  lo !  the  branches  are  full  of  song. 
Those  who  pursue  Culture  never  catch  up  with  her. 
Culture  takes  alarm  at  pursuit  and  avoids  the  stealthy 
pounce.  Culture  is  a  woman,  and  a  certain  amount  of 
indifference  wins  her.  Ardent  wooing  will  not  secure 
either  wisdom  or  a  woman  —  excepting  in  the  case 


82 ARISTOTLE 

where  a  woman  marries  a  man  to  get  rid  of  him,  and 
then  he  really  does  not  get  the  woman — he  only  secures 
her  husk.  And  the  husks  of  culture  are  pedantry  "and 
sciolism.  The  highest  philosophy  of  the  future  will 
consist  in  doing  each  day  that  which  is  most  useful. 
Talking  about  it  will  be  quite  incidental  and  secondary. 


AFTER  Alexander  had  completed  his  little  task 
of  conquering  the  world,  it  was  his  intention  to 
sit  down  and  improve  his  mind.  He  was  going 
back  to  Greece  and  complete  the  work  Pericles  had  so 
well  begun.  To  this  end  Aristotle  had  left  Macedonia 
and  established  his  Peripatetic  school  at  Athens.  Plato 
was  exclusive,  and  taught  in  the  Garden  with  its  high 
walls.  Aristotle  taught  in  the  peripatos  or  porch  of  the 
Lyceum,  and  his  classes  were  for  all  who  wished  to 
attend.  Socrates  was  really  the  first  peripatetic  phi 
losopher,  but  he  was  a  roustabout.  Nothing  sanctifies 
like  death — and  now  Socrates  had  become  respectable, 
and  his  methods  were  to  be  made  legal  and  legitimate. 
Q  Socrates  discovered  the  principal  of  human  liberty ; 
he  taught  the  rights  of  the  individual,  and  as  these 
threatened  to  interfere  with  the  state,  the  politicians 
got  alarmed  and  put  him  to  death.  Plato,  much  more 
cautious,  wrote  his  "  Republic"  wherein  everything  is 
subordinated  for  the  good  of  the  state,  and  the  individ 
ual  is  but  a  cog  in  a  most  perfectly  lubricated  machine. 
Aristotle  saw  that  Socrates  was  nearer  right  than  Plato 


ARISTOTLE 83 

— sin  is  the  expression  of  individuality  and  is  not 
wholly  bad — the  state  is  made  up  of  individuals,  and  if 
you  suppress  the  thinking  power  of  the  individual,  you 
will  get  a  weak  and  effeminate  body  politic ;  there  will 
be  none  to  govern.  The  whole  fabric  will  break  down 
of  its  own  weight.  A  man  must  have  the  privilege  of 
making  a  fool  of  himself — within  proper  bounds,  of 
course.  To  that  end  learning  must  be  for  all,  and  liberty 
to  both  listen  and  teach  should  be  the  privilege  of  every 
man  #  & 

This  is  a  problem  that  Boston  has  before  it  to-day: 
shall  free  speech  be  allowed  on  the  Common  ?  William 
Morris  tried  it  in  Trafalgar  Square,  to  his  sorrow ;  but 
in  Hyde  Park,  if  you  think  you  have  a  message,  London 
will  let  you  give  it.  But  this  is  not  considered  good 
form,  and  the  "best  Society"  listen  to  no  speeches  in 
the  park.  However  there  are  signs  that  Aristotle's  out 
door  school  may  come  back.  Phillips  Brooks  tried 
outdoor  preaching,  and  if  his  health  had  not  failed,  he 
might  have  popularized  it.  It  only  wants  a  man  who  is 
big  enough  to  inaugurate  it. 

Aristotle  had  various  helpers,  and  arranged  to  give  his 
lectures  and  conferences  daily  in  certain  porches  or 
promenades.  These  lectures  covered  the  whole  range 
of  human  thought  —  logic,  rhetoric,  oratory,  physics, 
ethics,  politics,  esthetics,  and  physical  culture.  These 
outdoor  talks  were  called  exoteric,  and  there  gradually 
grew  up  esoteric  lessons,  which  were  for  the  rich  or 
luxurious  and  the  dainty.  And  there  being  money  in 


84 ARISTOTLE 

the  esoteric  lessons,  these  gradually  took  the  place  of 
the  exoteric,  and  so  we  got  the  genesis  of  our  modern 
private  school  or  college,  where  we  send  our  children 
to  be  taught  great  things  by  great  men  for  a  considera 
tion  <r  *r 

Will  the  exoteric,  peripatetic  school  come  back  ? 
I  think  so. 

I  believe  that  university  education  will  soon  be  free  to 
every  boy  and  girl  in  America,  and  this  without  going 
far  from  home.  Esoteric  education  is  always  more  or 
less  of  a  sham.  Our  public  school  system  is  purely  exo 
teric,  only  we  stop  too  soon.  We  also  give  our  teachers 
too  much  work  and  too  little  pay.  Stop  building  war 
ships,  and  use  the  money  to  double  the  teachers' 
salaries,  making  the  profession  respectable,  raise  the 
standard  of  efficiency,  and  the  free  university  with  the 
old  Greek  Lyceum  will  be  here. 

America  must  do  this — the  Old  World  can't.  We  have 
the  money,  and  we  have  the  men  and  women,  all  that 
is  needed  is  the  desire,  and  this  is  fast  awakening. 


WHEN  Alexander  died,  of  acute  success,  aged 
thirty-two,  Aristotle's  sustaining  prop  was 
gone.  The  Athenians  never  thought  much  of 
the  Macedonians — not  much  more  than  St.  Paul  did, 
he  having  tried  to  convert  both  and  failed. 
Athens  was  jealous  of  the  power  of  Alexander — that 
a  provincial  should  thus  rule  the  Mother-Country  was 


ARISTOTLE 85 

unforgivable.  It  was  as  if  a  Canadian  should  make  him 
self  King  of  England ! 

Everybody  knew  that  Aristotle  had  been  the  tutor  of 
Alexander,  and  that  they  were  close  friends.  And  that 
a  Macedonian  should  be  the  chief  school-teacher  in 
Athens  was  an  affront.  The  very  greatness  of  the  man 
was  his  offense — Athens  had  none  to  match  him,  and 
the  world  has  never  since  matched  him,  either.  How 
to  get  rid  of  the  Macedonian  philosopher  was  the 
question. 

And  so  our  old  friend,  heresy,  comes  in  again — a  poem 
was  found,  written  by  Aristotle  many  years  before,  on 
the  death  of  his  friend,  King  Hermias,  wherein  Apollo 
was  disrespectfully  mentioned.  It  was  the  old  charge 
against  Socrates  come  back — the  hemlock  was  brewing. 
But  life  was  sweet  to  Aristotle,  he  chose  discretion  to 
valor,  and  fled  to  his  country  home  at  Chalcis  in 
Eubcea  *T  jT 

The  humiliation  of  being  driven  from  his  work,  and 
the  sudden  change  from  active  life  to  exile  undermined 
his  strength,  and  he  died  in  a  year,  aged  sixty-two. 
In  morals  the  world  has  added  nothing  new  to  the 
philosophy  of  Aristotle:  gentleness,  consideration, 
moderation,  mutual  helpfulness  and  the  principle  that 
one  man's  privileges  end  where  another  man's  rights 
begin — these  make  up  the  sum.  And  on  them  all  author 
ities  agree,  and  have  for  twenty-five  hundred  years. 
Q  The  family  relations  of  Aristotle  were  most  ex 
emplary.  The  unseemly  wrangles  of  Philip  and  his  wife 


86 


ARISTOTLE 


were  never  repeated  in  the  home  of  Aristotle.  Yet  we 
will  have  to  offer  this  fact  in  the  interests  of  stirpicul- 
ture :  the  inconstant  Philip  and  the  termagant  Olympias 
brought  into  the  world  Alexander;  whereas  the  sons  of 
Aristotle  lived  their  day  and  died,  without  making  a 
ripple  on  the  surface  of  history. 

As  in  the  scientific  study  of  the  horse,  no  progress  was 
made  from  the  time  of  Aristotle  to  that  of  Leonardo,  so 
Hegel  says  there  was  no  advancement  in  philosophy 
from  the  time  of  Aristotle  to  that  of  Spinoza. 
Eusebius  called  Aristotle ' '  Nature' s  Private  Secretary. ' ' 
Dante  spoke  of  him  as  "The  Master  of  those  who 
know."  Sir  'William  Hamilton  said,  "  In  the  range  of 
his  powers  and  perceptions,  only  Leonardo  can  be 
compared  with  him." 


SO  HERE  ENDETH  THE  LITTLE  JOURNEY  TO  THE 
HOME  OF  ARISTOTLE,  WRITTEN  BY  ELBERT  HUBBARD. 
BORDERS,  INITIALS  AND  ORNAMENTS  DESIGNED  BY 
ROYCROFT  ARTISTS,  PRESSWORK  BY  LOUIS  SCHELL, 
&  THE  WHOLE  DONE  INTO  A  BOOK  BY  THE  ROYCROFT- 
ERS  AT  THEIR  SHOP,  WHICH  IS  IN  EAST  AURORA,  IN 
THE  MONTH  OF  MARCH,  IN  THE  YEAR  MCMIV  41  £  4  4 


NO  MEN  ARE  GREATER 
sticklers  for  the  arbitrary  dominion  of  genius 
and  talent  than  your  artists.  The  great  painter 
is  not  content  with  being  sought  after  and  admired 
because  his  hands  can  do  more  than  ordinary  hands, 
which  they  truly  can,  but  he  wants  to  be  fed  as  if  his 
stomach  needed  more  food  than  ordinary  stomachs, 
which  it  does  not.  A  day's  work  is  a  day's  work,  neither 
more  nor  less,  and  the  man  who  does  it  needs  a  day's 
sustenance,  a  night's  repose,  and  due  leisure,  whether 
he  be  painter  or  ploughman.  But  the  rascal  of  a  painter, 
poet,  novelist,  or  other  voluptuary  of  labor,  is  not  con 
tent  with  his  advantage  in  popular  esteem  over  the  plough 
man  ;  he  also  wants  an  advantage  in  money,  as  if  there 
were  more  hours  in  a  day  spent  in  a  studio  or  library 
than  in  the  field;  or  as  if  he  needed  more  food  to  enable 
him  to  do  his  work  than  the  ploughman  to  enable  him  to 
do  his.  He  talks  of  the  higher  quality  of  his  work,  as  if 
the  higher  quality  of  it  was  his  own  making — as  if  it  gave 
him  a  right  to  work  less  for  his  neighbor  than  his  neigh 
bor  works  for  him — as  if  the  ploughman  could  not  do 
better  without  him  than  he  without  the  ploughman — as  if 
the  value  of  the  most  celebrated  pictures  has  not  been 
questioned  more  than  that  of  any  straight  furrow  in  the 
arable  world — as  if  it  did  not  take  an  apprenticeship  of 
as  many  years  to  train  the  hand  and  eye  of  a  mason  or 
blacksmith  as  of  an  artist— as  if,  in  short,  the  fellow  were 
a  god,  as  canting  brain  worshippers  have  for  years  past 
been  assuring  him  he  is.  Artists  are  the  high  priests  of 
the  modern  Moloch. — Bernard  Shaw. 


Vfttlr 

TO   THE   HOMES    OF    GREAT    PHILOSOPHERS 

MARCUS  AURELIUS 


Vol.  XIV.  APRIL,  1904.  No.  4 


By  ELBERT  HUBBARD 


Single  Copies,  25  cents  By  the  Year,  $3.00 


LITTLE  JOURNEYS 

By  Elbert  Hubbard  FOR  1904 

WILL     BE     TO     THE     HOMES     OF 

GREAT  PHILOSOPHERS 

THE  SUBJECTS  AS  FOLLOWS 


i— Socrates 

z — Seneca 

3— Hristotle 

4 — JVIarcue  Hurelius 

5— Spinoza 

6— Swedenborg 


7 — Imtnanuel  Kant 
8— Huguste  Comte 
9 — Voltaire 
10 — Berbert  Spencer 
11— Schopenhauer 
12— Renry  Choreau 


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uary  First.  The  LITTLE  JOURNEYS  for  Nineteen  Hun 
dred  Four  will  be  strictly  de  luxe  in  form  and  workmanship. 
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Little 
Journeys 

TO    THE  HOMES   OK 

Great 
Philosophers 

Aurelius 


WRITTEN  BY  ELBERT 
HUBBARD  AND  DONE 
INTO  A  BOOK  BY  THE 
ROYCROFTERS,  AT 
THEIR  SHOP,  WHICH 
IS  IN  EAST  AURORA, 
NEW  YORK,  MCMIV 


WE  are  made  for  co-operation,  like  feet,  like  hands,  like  eyelids, 
like  the  rows  of  the  upper  and  lower  teeth.  To  act  against  one 
another  then  is  contrary  to  nature,  and  it  is  acting  against  one  another 
to  be  vexed  and  turn  away.  —THE  MEDITATIONS. 


/  / 1 


Marcus  Aurelius 


MARCUS  AURELIUS 


|NNIUS  VERUS  was  one  of  the  great 
men  of  Rome.  He  had  been  a  soldier, 
governor  of  provinces,  judge,  senator, 
and  consul.  Sixty  years  had  passed  over 
his  head  and  whitened  his  hair,  but  the 
lines  of  care  that  were  on  his  fine  face 
ten  years  before  had  now  given  way  to 
a  cherubic  double-chin,  and  his  com 
plexion  was  ruddy  as  a  baby's.  The  en 
tire  atmosphere  of  the  man  was  one  of 
gentleness,  repose  and  kindly  good-will. 
Annius  Verus  was  grateful  to  the  gods, 
for  the  years  had  brought  him  much 
good  fortune,  and  better  still,  knowledge. 
"  Being  old  I  shall  know  *  *  *  the  last 
of  life  for  which  the  first  was  made!  " 
Q  Religion  is  n't  a  thing  outside  of  a 
man,  taught  by  priests  out  of  a  book. 
Religion  is  in  the  heart  of  man  and  its 
chief  quality  is  resignation  and  a  grate 
ful  spirit.  Annius  Verus  was  religious 
in  the  best  sense,  and  his  life  was  peace 
ful  and  happy. 

And  surely  Annius  Verus  should  have 
been  content — he  -was  a  Roman  Consul, 
rich,  powerful,  honored  by  the  wisest 
and  best  men  in  Rome,  who  considered 
it  a  privilege  to  come  and  dine  at  his 
table.  His  villa  was  on  Mount  Ccelius, 


88 MARCUS   AURELIUS 

a  suburb  of  Rome.  The  house  was  surrounded  by  a  big 
stone  wall  enclosing  a  tract  of  about  ten  acres  where 
grew  citron,  orange  and  fig  trees,  and  giant  cedars  of 
Lebanon  lifted  their  branches  to  the  clouds. 
At  least  it  seemed  to  little  Marcus,  grandson  of  the 
Consul,  as  if  they  reached  the  clouds.  There  was  a 
long  ladder  running  up  one  of  these  big  cedar  trees  to 
a  platform  or  "  crow's-nest  "  nearly  a  hundred  feet  from 
the  ground.  No  boy  was  allowed  to  climb  up  there 
until  he  was  twelve  years  old,  and  when  Marcus  was 
ten,  time  got  stuck,  he  thought,  and  refused  to  budge. 
But  this  was  only  little  Marcus'  idea,  for  he  finally  got 
to  be  twelve  years  old,  and  then  he  climbed  the  long 
ladder  to  the  lookout  in  the  tree  and  looked  down  on 
the  Eternal  City  that  lay  below  in  the  valley  and 
stretched  away  over  the  seven  hills.  Often  the  boy 
would  take  a  book  and  climb  up  there  to  read;  and 
when  the  good  grandfather  missed  him,  he  knew  where 
to  look,  and  standing  under  the  tree  the  old  man  would 
call,  "  Come  down,  Marcus,  come  down  and  kiss  your 
old  grandfather — it  is  lonesome  down  here  !  Come  down 
and  read  to  your  grandfather  who  loves  his  little 
Marcus ! " 

Such  an  appeal  as  this  was  irresistible  and  the  boy, 
slight,  slim  and  agile,  would  clamber  over  the  side  of 
the  crow's-nest  and  down  the  ladder  to  the  outstretched 
arms  ,y  #* 

The  boy's  father  had  died  when  he  was  only  three 
months  old,  and  the  grandfather  had  adopted  the  child 


MARCUS   AURELIUS 89 

as  his  heir,  and  brought  Lucilla,  the  widowed  mother, 
and  her  baby  to  live  in  his  house. 

Years  before,  the  Consul's  wife  had  passed  away,  and 
Faustina,  his  daughter,  became  the  lady  of  the  house. 
Lucilla  and  Faustina  did  n't  get  along  very  well  to 
gether — no  house  is  big  enough  for  two  families,  some 
man  has  said.  Lucilla  was  gentle,  gracious,  spiritual, 
modest  and  refined;  Faustina  was  beautiful  and  not 
without  intellect,  but  she  was  proud,  domineering  and 
fond  of  admiration.  But  be  it  said  to  the  credit  of  the 
good  old  Consul,  he  was  able  to  suffuse  the  whole 
place  with  love,  and  even  if  Faustina  had  a  tantrum 
now  and  then,  it  did  not  last  long. 

There  were  always  visitors  in  the  household — soldiers 
home  on  furloughs,  governors  on  vacations,  lawyers 
who  came  to  consult  the  wise  and  judicial  Verus. 
One  visitor  of  note  -was  a  man  by  the  name  of  Aurelius 
Antoninus.  He  was  about  forty  years  old  as  Marcus  first 
remembered  him — tall  and  straight  with  a  full,  dark 
beard  and  short,  curly  hair  touched  with  gray.  He  was 
a  quiet,  self-contained  man,  and  at  first  little  Marcus 
was  a  bit  afraid  of  him.  Aurelius  Antoninus  had  been  a 
soldier,  but  he  showed  such  a  studious  mind,  and  was 
so  intent  on  doing  the  right  thing  that  he  was  made  an 
under-secretary,  then  private  secretary  to  the  Emperor, 
and  finally  he  had  been  sent  away  to  govern  a  rebel 
lious  province,  and  put  down  mutiny  by  wise  diplomacy 
instead  of  by  force  of  arms. 
Aurelius  Antoninus  was  inclined  towards  the  Stoics, 


90 MARCUS   AURELIUS 

although  he  did  n't  talk  much  about  it.  He  usually  ate 
but  two  meals  a  day,  worked  with  the  servants  and 
wrote  this  in  his  diary,  "  Men  are  made  for  each  other: 
even  the  inferior  for  the  superior,  and  these  for  the 
sake  of  one  another." 

This  philosophy  of  the  Stoics  rather  appealed  to  the 
widow  Lucilla,  also,  and  she  read  Zeno  with  Aurelius 
Antoninus.  Verus  did  not  object  to  it — he  had  been  a 
soldier  and  knew  the  advantages  of  doing  without 
things  and  of  being  able  to  make  the  things  you  needed, 
and  of  living  simply  and  being  plain  and  direct  in  all 
your  acts  and  speech.  But  Faustina  laughed  at  it  all — 
to  her  it  was  preposterous  that  one  should  wear  plain 
clothing  and  no  jewelry  when  he  could  buy  the  costliest 
and  best ;  and  why  one  should  eschew  wine  and  meat 
and  live  on  brown  bread  and  fruit  and  cold  water,  when 
he  could  just  as  well  have  spiced  and  costly  dishes — 
all  this  was  clear  beyond  her.  Various  fetes  and  ban 
quets  were  given  by  Faustina,  to  which  the  young 
nobles  were  invited.  She  was  a  beautiful  woman  and 
never  for  a  moment  forgot  it,  and  by  some  mistake  or 
accident  she  got  herself  betrothed  to  three  men  at  the 
same  time.  Two  of  these  fought  a  duel  and  one  was 
killed.  The  third  man  looked  on  and  hoped  both  would 
be  killed,  for  then  he  could  have  the  woman.  Faustina 
got  this  third  man  to  challenge  the  survivor,  and  then 
by  one  of  those  strange  somersaults  of  fate  the  unex 
pected  occurred. 
Faustina  and  Aurelius  Antoninus  were  married. 


MARCUS   AURELIUS 91 

It  was  a  most  queer  mismating,  for  the  man  was  plain, 
sincere  and  honorable,  and  she  was  almost  everything 
else.  Yet  she  had  wit  and  she  had  beauty,  and  Aurelius 
had  been  living  in  the  desert  so  long  he  imagined  that 
all  women  were  gentle  and  good.  The  Consul  was  very 
glad  to  unite  his  house  with  so  fine  and  excellent  a 
man  as  Aurelius ;  Lucilla  cried  for  two  days  and  more 
and  little  Marcus  cried  because  his  mother  did,  and 
neither  cried  because  Faustina  had  gone  away. 
But  grief  is  transient. 

In  a  little  over  a  year  Antoninus  and  Faustina  came 
back  to  Rome,  and  brought  with  them  a  little  girl  baby, 
Faustina  Second.  Marcus  was  very  much  interested  in 
this  baby,  and  made  great  plans  about  how  they  would 
play  together  when  she  got  older. 

Among  other  visitors  at  the  house  of  the  old  Consul 
often  came  the  Emperor  himself.  Hadrian  and  Verus 
were  Spaniards  and  had  been  soldiers  together,  and 
now  Hadrian  often  liked  to  get  away  from  the  cares  of 
state,  and  in  the  evening  hide  himself  from  the  office- 
seekers  and  flattering  parasites  in  the  quiet  villa  on 
Mount  Coelius — he  liked  it  here  even  better  than  at  his 
own  wonderful  gardens  at  Tivoli.  And  little  Marcus 
was  n't  afraid  of  him,  either.  Marcus  would  sit  on  the 
Emperor's  knee  and  listen  to  tales  about  hunting  wild 
boars  and  bears,  or  men  as  wild.  Then  they  would  play 
tag  or  I-spy  among  the  bushes  and  trees;  and  once 
Marcus  dared  the  Emperor  to  climb  the  long  ladder  to 
the  look-out  in  the  big  cedar.  Hadrian  accepted  the 


92 MARCUS    AURELIUS 

challenge  and  climbed  to  the  crow's-nest  and  cut  his 
initials  in  the  trunk  of  the  tree. 

Instead  of  calling  the  boy  Marcus  Verus,  the  Emperor 
gave  him  the  name  "  Verissimus,"  which  means  "the 
open-eyed  truthful  one,"  and  this  name  stuck  to  Marcus 
for  life. 

Between  Antoninus  and  Marcus  there  grew  up  a  very 
close  friendship.  Antoninus  could  scale  the  ladder  up 
the  tall  cedar,  three  rungs  at  a  time,  and  come  down 
hand  over  hand  without  putting  his  foot  on  a  rest. 
He  and  Marcus  built  another  crow's-nest  thirty  feet 
above  the  first.  They  drew  up  the  lumber  by  ropes, 
and  Antoninus  being  sinewy  and  strong  climbed  up 
first,  and  with  thongs  and  nails  they  fixed  the  boards 
in  place,  and  made  a  rope  ladder  such  as  sailors  make, 
that  they  could  pull  up  after  them  so  no  one  could  reach 
them.  'When  the  kind  old  Emperor  came  to  the  villa 
they  showed  him  what  they  had  done.  He  said  he 
would  not  try  to  climb  up  now  as  he  had  a  touch  of 
rheumatism.  But  a  light  was  fixed  in  the  upper  lookout, 
drawn  up  by  a  cord,  so  they  could  signal  to  the  Em 
peror  down  at  the  palace. 

Then  Antoninus  taught  Marcus  to  ride  horseback  and 
pick  up  a  spear  off  the  ground,  with  his  horse  at  a  gallop. 
This  was  great  sport  for  the  Consul  and  the  Emperor 
who  looked  on,  but  they  did  not  try  it  then,  but  said 
they  would  later  on  "when  they  were  feeling  just  right. 
Q  And  beside  all  this  Aurelius  Antoninus  taught  Marcus 
to  read  from  Epictetus,  and  told  him  how  this  hunch- 


MARCUS   AURELIUS 93 

back  slave,  Epictetus,  who  -was  owned  by  a  man  who 
had  been  a  slave  himself,  was  one  of  the  sweetest, 
gentlest  souls  who  had  ever  lived.  Together  they  read 
the  Stoic-slave  philosopher  and  made  notes  from  him. 
And  so  impressed  was  Marcus,  that  boy  though  he  was, 
he  adopted  the  simple  robe  of  the  Stoics,  slept  on  a 
plank,  and  made  his  life  and  language  plain,  truthful 
and  direct. 

This  was  all  rather  amusing  to  those  near  him, — to  all 
except  Antoninus  and  the  boy's  mother.  The  others 
said,  "  Leave  him  alone  and  he  '11  get  over  it." 
Faustina  was  still  fond  of  admiration — the  simple, 
studious  ways  of  her  husband  were  not  to  her  liking. 
He  was  twenty  years  her  senior,  and  she  demanded 
gaiety  as  her  right.  Her  delight  was  to  tread  the  bor 
der  line  of  folly,  and  see  how  close  she  could  come  to 
the  brink  and  not  step  off.  Julius  Caesar's  wife  was  put 
away  on  suspicion,  but  Faustina  was  worse  than  that ! 
She  'would  go  down  to  the  city  to  masquerades,  leaving 
her  little  girl  at  home,  and  be  gone  for  three  days. 
'When  she  returned  Aurelius  Antoninus  spoke  no  word 
of  anger  nor  reproof.  Her  father  said  to  her,  "  Beware  ! 
your  husband's  patience  has  a  limit — if  he  divorces  you, 
I  shall  not  blame  him ;  and  even  if  he  should  kill  you, 
Roman  law  will  not  punish  him !  " 

But  long  years  after,  Marcus,  in  looking  back  on  those 
days,  wrote,  "His  patience  knew  no  limit;  he  treated 
her  as  a  perverse  child,  and  he  once  said  to  me,  I  pity 
and  love  her,  I  will  not  put  her  away — this  were  selfish. 


94 MARCUS   AURELIUS 

How  can  her  follies  injure  me  ?  We  are  what  we  are, 
and  no  one  can  harm  us  but  ourselves.  The  mistakes 
of  those  near  us  afford  us  an  opportunity  for  self-con 
trol — we  will  not  imitate  their  errors,  but  rather  strive 
to  avoid  them.  In  this  way  what  might  be  a  great  hu 
miliation  has  its  benefits." 

Let  no  one  imagine,  however,  that  the  tolerance  of 
Antoninus  was  the  soft  acquiescence  of  weakness.  After 
his  death  Marcus  wrote,  "Whatsoever  excellent  thing 
he  had  planned  to  do,  he  carried  out  with  a  persistency 
that  nothing  could  divert.  If  he  punished  men,  it  was 
by  allowing  them  to  be  led  by  their  own  folly — his  fore 
sight,  wisdom  and  calm  deliberation  were  beyond  those 
of  any  man  I  ever  knew." 

The  studious,  direct  and  manly  ways  of  Marcus  were 
not  cast  aside  when  he  put  on  the  toga  virilis,  as 
Faustina  had  predicted.  In  spite  of  the  difference  in 
their  ages,  Antoninus  and  Marcus  mutually  sustained 
each  other. 

Little  Faustina  was  much  more  like  her  father  than 
her  mother,  and  very  early  showed  her  preference  for 
her  father's  society.  Marcus  was  her  playmate  and 
taught  her  to  ride  a  pony  astride,  just  as  her  father  had 
taught  him.  The  three  would  often  ride  over  to  the 
village  of  Lorium,  twelve  miles  from  Rome,  where 
Antoninus  had  a  summer  villa.  At  Lanuvium,  near  at 
hand,  the  Emperor  spent  a  part  of  his  time,  and  he 
would  occasionally  join  the  party  and  listen  to  Marcus 
recite  from  Cicero  and  Caesar. 


MARCUS   AURELIUS 95 

When  Marcus  was  sixteen,  Hadrian  appointed  him 
prefect  of  festivities  in  Rome,  to  take  the  place  of  the 
regular  officer,  a  man  of  years,  who  was  out  of  the  city. 
So  well  did  Marcus  fill  the  place  and  make  up  his  re 
port,  that  when  they  again  met,  the  old  Emperor  kissed 
his  cheek,  calling  him,  "  My  brave  Verissimus,"  and 
said,  "  If  I  had  a  son,  I  would  want  him  just  like  you." 
Q  Not  long  after  this  the  Emperor  was  taken  violently 
ill.  He  called  his  counselors  about  his  bedside  and  di 
rected  that  Aurelius  Antoninus  should  be  his  successor, 
and  that  further,  Antoninus  should  adopt  Marcus  Verus, 
so  that  Marcus  should  succeed  Aurelius  Antoninus. 
Q  Hadrian  loved  Marcus  for  his  own  sake,  and  he  loved 
him  too  for  the  sake  of  the  grandfather,  his  old  soldier 
comrade,  Annius  Verus  ;  and  beside  that  he  was  intent 
on  preserving  the  Spanish  strain. 

In  a  short  time  Hadrian  passed  away,  and  Aurelius 
Antoninus  was  crowned  Emperor  of  Rome,  and  Marcus 
Verus,  aged  seventeen,  slim,  slender  and  studious,  took 
the  name,  Marcus  Aurelius. 


THE  new  reign  did  not  begin  under  very  favorable 
auspices.  There   was   a  prejudice   against   the 
Spanish  blood,  and  Hadrian  had  alienated  some 
of  the   aristocrats   by  measures   they  considered  too 
democratic. 

Aurelius  Antoninus  knew  of  these  prejudices  toward 
his  predecessor  and  he  boldly  met  them  by  carrying  the 


96 MARCUS   AURELIUS 

ashes  of  Hadrian  to  the  Senate,  demanding  that  the 
dead  Emperor  should  be  enrolled  among  the  gods.  So 
earnest  and  convincing  was  his  eulogy  of  the  great  man 
gone,  that  a  vote  was  taken  and  the  resolution  passed 
without  a  dissenting  voice.  This  gives  us  a  slight  clue 
to  the  genesis  of  the  gods,  and  also  reveals  to  us  the 
the  character  of  Antoninus.  He  so  impressed  the  Senate 
that  this  honorable  body  thought  best  to  waive  all 
matters  of  difference  and  in  pretty  compliment  they 
voted  to  bestow  on  the  new  Emperor  the  degree  of 
"Pius."  Antoninus  Pius  was  a  man  born  to  rule — in 
little  things,  lenient,  but  firm  at  the  right  time.  Faustina 
still  had  her  little  social  dissipations,  but  as  she  was 
not  allowed  to  mix  in  affairs  of  state,  her  pink  person 
was  not  a  political  factor. 

Marcus  Aurelius  was  only  seventeen  years  old:  his 
close  studies  had  robbed  him  of  a  bit  of  the  robust 
health  a  youth  should  have.  But  horseback  riding  and 
daily  outdoor  games  finally  got  him  back  into  good 
condition.  He  was  the  secretary  and  companion  of  the 
Emperor  wherever  he  went. 

Great  responsibilities  confronted  these  two  strong  men. 
In  point  of  intellect  and  aspiration  they  were  far  be 
yond  the  people  they  governed.  So  far,  indeed,  that  they 
were  almost  isolated.  There  was  a  multitude  of  slaves 
and  consequently  there  was  a  feeling  everywhere  that 
useful  work  was  degrading.  The  tendency  of  the  slave 
owner  is  always  toward  profligacy  and  conspicuous 
waste.  To  do  away  with  slavery  was  out  of  the  ques- 


MARCUS   AURELIUS 97 

tion — that  was  a  matter  of  time  and  education — the 
ruler  can  never  afford  to  get  much  in  advance  of  his 
people.  The  court  was  infected  with  parasites  in  the 
way  of  informers  and  busy-bodies  who  knew  no  way 
to  thrive  excepting  through  intrigue.  Superstitions 
were  taught  by  hypocritical  priests  in  order  to  make 
the  people  pay  tithes ;  and  attached  to  the  state  religion 
were  sooth-sayers,  fortune-tellers,  astrologers,  gam 
blers  &  many  pretenders  who  waxed  fat  by  ministering 
to  ignorance  and  depravity.  These  were  the  cheerful 
parasites  mentioned  as  "money-changers"  a  hundred 
years  before,  that  infested  the  entrance  to  every  temple. 
Q  Many  long  consultations  did  the  Emperor  and  his 
adopted  son  have  concerning  the  best  policy  to  pursue. 
They  could  have  issued  an  edict  and  swept  the  wrongs 
out  of  existence,  but  they  knew  that  folly  sprouts  from 
a  disordered  brain  and  so  they  did  not  treat  a  symptom : 
the  disease  was  ignorance,  the  symptom,  superstition. 
For  themselves  they  kept  an  esoteric  doctrine,  and  for 
the  many  they  did  what  they  could. 
Twenty-three  years  of  probation  lay  before  Marcus 
Aurelius — years  of  study,  work,  and  patient  endeavor. 
He  shared  in  all  the  honors  of  the  Emperor  and  bore 
his  part  of  the  burden  as  well.  Never  did  he  thirst  for 
more  power — the  responsibilities  of  the  situation  sad 
dened  him — there  was  so  much  to  be  done  and  he  could 
do  so  little.  "Well  does  Dean  Farrar  call  him  "  a  seeker 
after  God." 
The  office  of  young  Marcus  Aurelius  at  first  was  that 


98 MARCUS   AURELIUS 

of  Quaestor,  which  literally  means  a  messenger,  but 
the  word  with  the  Romans  meant  more — an  emissary 
or  an  ambassador.  When  Marcus  was  eighteen  he  read 
to  the  Senate  all  speeches  and  messages  from  the  Em 
peror  ;  and  in  a  few  years  more  he  wrote  the  messages 
as  well  as  delivered  them.  And  all  the  time  his  educa 
tion  was  being  carried  along  by  competent  instructors. 
Q  One  of  these  teachers,  Pronto,  has  come  down  to  us, 
his  portrait  well  etched  on  history's  tablets,  because 
he  saved  all  the  letters  written  him  by  Marcus  Aure- 
lius  ;  and  his  grandchildren  published  them  in  order  to 
show  the  excellence  of  true  scientific  teaching.  That 
old  Pronto  was  a  dear  old  dear,  these  letters  do  fully 
attest.  When  Marcus  went  away  on  a  little  journey, 
even  to  Lorium,  he  wrote  a  letter  to  Pronto  telling 
about  the  trip  —  the  sheep  by  the  wayside,  the  dogs 
that  herded  them,  the  shower  they  saw  coming  across 
the  Campagna,  and  incidentally  a  little  freshman  philos 
ophy  mixed  in,  for  Pronto  had  cautioned  his  pupil  to 
always  write  out  a  great  thought  when  it  came,  for  fear 
he  would  never  have  another.  Marcus  was  a  sprightly 
letter  writer,  and  must  have  been  a  quick  observer,  and 
Fronto's  gentle  claims  that  he  made  the  man,  are 
worthy  of  consideration.  As  a  literary  exercise  the  daily 
theme,  prompted  by  love,  can  never  be  improved  upon. 
The  way  to  learn  to  write  is  to  write.  And  Pronto,  who 
resorted  to  many  little  tricks,  in  order  to  get  his  pupil 
to  express  himself,  was  a  teacher  whose  name  should 
be  written  high.  The  correspondence  school  has  many 


MARCUS   AURELIUS 99 

advantages — Pronto  purposely  sent  his  pupil  away  or 
absented  himself,  that  the  carefully  formulated  or 
written  thought  might  take  the  place  of  the  free  and 
easy  conversation.  In  one  letter  Marcus  ends,  "The 
day  was  perfect  but  for  one  thing — you  were  not  here. 
But  then  if  you  were  here,  I  would  not  now  have  the 
pleasure  of  writing  to  you,  so  thus  is  your  philosophy 
proven  :  that  all  good  is  equalized,  &  love  grows  through 
separation! "  This  sounds  a  bit  preachy,  but  is  valuable, 
as  it  reveals  the  man  to  whom  it  is  written :  the  person 
to  whom  we  write  dictates  the  message. 
Fronto's  habit  of  giving  a  problem  to  work  out  was 
quite  as  good  a  teaching  plan  as  anything  we  have  to 
offer  now.  Thus,  "An  ambassador  of  Rome  visiting  an 
outlying  province  attended  a  gladiatorial  contest.  And 
one  of  the  fighters  being  indisposed,  the  ambassador 
replied  to  a  taunt  by  putting  on  a  coat  of  mail  and  go 
ing  into  the  ring  to  kill  the  lion.  Question,  was  this 
action  commendable  ?  If  so,  why,  and  if  not,  why  not  ? ' ' 
Q  The  proposition  was  one  that  would  appeal  at  once 
to  a  young  man,  and  thus  did  Pronto  lead  his  pupils  to 
think  and  express. 

Another  teacher  that  Marcus  had  was  Rusticus,  a  blunt 
old  farmer  turned  pedagog,  who  has  added  a  word  to 
our  language.  His  pupils  were  called  Rusticiana,  and 
later  plain  rustics.  That  Rusticus  developed  in  Marcus 
a  deal  of  plain,  sturdy  common  sense  there  is  no  doubt. 
Rusticus  had  a  way  of  stripping  a  subject  of  its  gloss 
and  verbiage — going  straight  to  the  vital  point  of  every 


ioo MARCUS    AURELIUS 

issue.  For  the  wisdom  of  Marcus'  legal  opinions  Rus- 
ticus  deserves  more  than  passing  credit. 
For  the  youth,  who  was  destined  to  be  the  next  Em 
peror  of  Rome,  there  was  no  dearth  of  society  if  he 
chose  to  accept  it.  Managing  mammas  were  on  every 
corner,  and  kind  kinsmen  consented  to  arrange  matters 
with  this  heiress  or  that.  For  the  frivolities  of  society 
Marcus  had  no  use — his  hours  were  filled  with  useful 
work  or  application  to  his  books.  His  father  and  Fronto 
we  find  were  both  constantly  urging  him  to  get  out 
more  in  the  sunshine  and  meet  more  people,  and  not 
bother  too  much  about  the  books. 

How  to  best  curtail  over-application,  I  am  told,  is  a 
problem  that  seldom  faces  a  teacher. 
As  for  society  as  a  matrimonial  bazar,  Marcus  Aurelius 
could  not  see  that  it  had  its  use.  He  was  afraid  of  it — 
afraid  of  himself,  perhaps.  He  loved  the  little  Faustina. 
They  had  been  comrades  together,  and  played  "keep 
house"  under  the  olive  trees  at  Lorium;  and  had  rid 
den  their  ponies  over  the  hills.  Once  Marcus  and 
Faustina  on  a  ride  across  the  country  bought  a  lamb, 
out  of  the  arms  of  the  shepherd,  and  kept  it  until  it  grew 
great  curling  horns,  and  made  visitors  scale  the  wall 
or  climb  trees.  Then  three  priests  led  it  away  to  sacri 
fice,  and  Marcus  and  Faustina  fell  in  each  others  arms 
and  rained  tears  down  each  others  backs,  and  refused 
to  be  comforted.  'What  if  their  father  was  an  Emperor, 
and  Marcus  would  be  some  day!  it  would  not  bring 
back  Beppo,  with  his  innocent  lamb-like  ways,  and 


MARCUS   AURELIUS 101 

make  him  get  down  on  his  knees  and  wag  his  tail  when 
they  fed  him  out  of  a  pail !  Beppo  always  got  on  his 
knees  to  eat,  and  showed  his  love  and  humility  before 
he  grew  his  horns  and  reached  the  age  of  indiscretion  ; 
then  he  became  awfully  wicked,  and  it  took  three  stout 
priests  to  lead  him  away  and  sacrifice  him  to  the  gods 
for  his  own  good ! 

But  gradually  the  grass  grew  on  Beppo' s  make-believe 
grave  in  the  garden,  and  Pronto' s  problems  filled  the 
vacuum  in  their  hearts.  Pronto  gave  his  lessons  to 
Marcus,  and  Marcus  gave  them  to  Faustina — thus  do 
we  keep  things  by  giving  them  away. 
But  problems  greater  than  pet  sheep  grown  ribald  and 
reckless  were  to  confront  Marcus  and  Faustina.  They 
had  both  been  betrothed  to  others,  years  before,  and 
this  they  now  resented.  They  talked  of  this  much,  and 
then  suddenly  ceased  to  talk  of  it,  and  each  evaded 
mentioning  it,  and  pretended  they  never  thought  of  it. 
Then  they  explosively  began  again — began  as  suddenly 
to  talk  of  it,  and  always  when  they  met  they  mentioned 
it.  Folks  called  them  brother  and  sister — they  were 
not  brother  and  sister,  only  cousins. 
Finally  the  matter  was  brought  to  Antoninus,  and  he 
pretended  that  he  had  never  thought  about  it,  but  in 
fact  he  had  thought  of  little  else  for  a  long  time.  And 
Antoninus  said  that  if  they  loved  each  other  very  much, 
and  he  was  sure  they  did,  why  it  was  the  will  of  the 
gods  that  they  should  marry,  and  he  never  interfered 
with  the  will  of  the  gods,  and  so  he  kissed  them  both 


102 MARCUS    AURELIUS 

and  cried  a  few  foolish  tears,  a  thing  an  Emperor 
should  never  do. 

So  they  were  married  at  the  country  seat  at  Lorium, 
out  under  the  orange  trees  as  was  often  the  custom, 
for  orange  trees  are  green  the  year  'round,  and  bear 
fruit  and  flowers  at  the  same  time,  and  the  flowers  are 
very  sweet,  and  the  fruit  is  both  beautiful  and  useful — 
and  these  things  symbol  constancy  and  fruitfulness  and 
good  luck,  and  that  is  why  we  yet  have  orange  blos 
soms  at  weddings  and  play  the  "Lohengrin  March," 
which  is  orange  trees  expressed  in  sweet  sounds. 
Marcus  was  only  twenty  and  Faustina  could  not  have 
been  over  sixteen  —  we  do  not  know  her  exact  age. 
There  are  stories  to  the  effect  that  the  wife  of  Marcus 
Aurelius  severely  tried  her  husband's  temper  at  times, 
but  these  tales  seem  to  have  arisen  through  a  confusion 
of  the  two  Faustinas.  The  elder  Faustina  was  the  one 
who  set  the  merry  pace  in  frivolity,  and  once  said  that 
any  woman  with  a  husband  twenty  years  her  senior 
must  be  allowed  a  lover  or  two — goodness  gracious ! 
Q  As  far  as  we  know,  the  younger  Faustina  was  a  most 
loyal  and  loving  wife,  the  mother  of  a  full  dozen  chil 
dren.  Coins  issued  by  Marcus  Aurelius  stamped  with 
the  features  of  his  wife,  and  the  inscription  Concordia, 
Faustina  and  Venus  Felix,  attest  the  felicity,  or  "felix- 
ity,"  of  the  marriage. 

Their  oldest  boy,  Commodus,  was  very  much  like  his 
grandmother,  Faustina,  and  a  man  who  knows  all 
about  the  Law  of  Heredity  tells  me  that  children  are 


MARCUS   AURELIUS 103 

much  more  apt  to  resemble  their  grandparents  than 
their  father  and  mother. 

I  believe  I  once  said  that  no  house  is  big  enough  for 
two  families,  but  this  truth  is  like  the  Greek  verb — it 
has  many  exceptions.  In  the  same  house  with  Em 
peror  Antoninus  Pius  dwelt  Lucilla,  mother  of  Marcus, 
and  Marcus  and  his  wife.  And  they  were  all  very 
happy — but  life  was  rather  more  peaceful  after  the 
death  of  Faustina,  the  elder,  which  occurred  a  few  years 
after  her  husband  became  Emperor. 
She  could  not  endure  prosperity. 

But  her  husband  mourned  her  death  and  made  a  pub 
lic  speech  in  eulogy  of  her,  determined  that  only  the 
best  should  be  remembered  of  one  who  had  been  the 
wife  of  an  Emperor  and  the  mother  of  his  children.  As 
far  as  we  know,  Antoninus  never  spoke  a  word  con 
cerning  his  wife  except  in  praise,  not  even  when  she 
left  his  house  to  be  gone  for  months. 
It  was  Ouida,  she  of  the  aqua  fortis  ink,  who  said,  "  A 
woman  married  to  a  man  as  good  as  Antoninus  must 
have  been  very  miserable,  for  while  men  who  are 
thoroughly  bad  are  not  lovable,  yet  a  man  who  is  not 
occasionally  bad  is  unendurable."  And  so  Ouida's  heart 
went  out  in  sympathy  and  condolence  to  the  two  Faus 
tinas,  who  wedded  the  only  two  men  mentioned  in 
Roman  history  who  were  infinitely  wise  and  good. 
In  one  of  his  essays,  Richard  Steele  writes  this,  "No 
woman  ever  loved  a  man  through  life  with  a  mighty 
love  if  the  man  did  not  occasionally  abuse  her."  I  give 


104 MARCUS    AURELIUS 

the  remark  for  what  it  is  worth.  However,  Montesqui 
somewhere  says  that  the  chief  objection  to  heaven  is 
its  monotony,  so  possibly  there  may  be  something  in 
the  Ouida-Steele  philosophy — but  of  this  I  really  can't 
say,  knowing  nothing  about  the  subject,  myself. 


HAPPY  is  the  man  who  has  no  history.  The  reign 
of  Antoninus  Pius  was  peaceful  and  prosperous. 
No  great  wars  nor  revulsions  occurred,  and 
the  times  made  for  education  and  excellence.  Antoni 
nus  worked  to  conserve  the  good,  and  that  he  suc 
ceeded,  Gibbon  says,  there  is  no  doubt.  He  left  the 
country  in  better  condition  than  he  found  it,  and  he 
could  have  truthfully  repeated  the  words  of  Pericles, 
"  I  have  made  no  person  wear  crape." 
But  there  came  a  day  when  Antoninus  was  stricken 
by  the  hand  of  death.  The  captain  of  the  guard  came  to 
him  and  asked  for  the  password  for  the  night.  "  Equa 
nimity,"  replied  the  Emperor,  and  turning  on  his  side, 
sank  into  sleep,  to  awake  no  more.  His  last  word  sym 
bols  the  guiding  impulse  of  his  life.  Well  does  Renan 
say,  "  Simple,  loving,  full  of  sweet  gaiety,  Antoninus 
was  a  philosopher  without  saying  so,  almost  without 
knowing  it.  Marcus  was  a  philosopher,  but  often  con 
sciously,  and  he  became  a  philosopher  by  study  and 
reflection,  aided  and  encouraged  by  the  older  man.  *  *  * 
You  cannot  consider  the  one  man  and  leave  the  other 
out,  and  the  early  contention  that  Antoninus  was,  in 


MARCUS   AURELIUS 105 

fact,  the  father  of  Marcus  has  at  least  a  poetic  and 
spiritual  basis  in  truth." 

There  was  much  in  Kenan's  suggestions.  The  greatest 
man  is  he  who  works  his  philosophy  up  into  life — this 
is  better  than  to  talk  about  it.  We  only  discuss  that  to 
which  we  have  not  attained,  and  the  virtues  we  talk 
most  of  are  those  beyond  us.  The  ideal  outstrips  the 
actual.  But  it  is  no  discredit  that  a  man  pictures  more 
than  he  realizes — such  a  one  is  preparing  the  way  for 
others.  Marcus  Antoninus  has  been  a  guiding  star — an 
inspiration — to  untold  millions. 

Marcus  Aurelius  was  forty  years  old  when  he  became 
Emperor  of  Rome.  At  the  age  of  forty  a  man  is  safe,  if 
ever :  character  is  formed,  and  what  he  will  do  or  be 
come,  can  be  safely  presaged. 

More  than  once  Rome  has  repudiated  the  man  in  the 
direct  line  of  accession  to  the  throne,  and  before  Marcus 
Aurelius  took  the  reins  of  government  he  asked  the 
Senate  to  ratify  the  people's  choice,  and  thus  make  it 
the  choice  of  the  gods,  and  this  was  done. 
As  Emperor,  we  find  Marcus  endeavored  to  carry  out 
the  policy  of  his  predecessor.  He  did  not  favor  ex 
pansion,  but  hoped  by  peace  and  propitiation  to  cement 
the  empire  and  thus  work  for  education,  harmony  and 
prosperity. 

It  is  interesting  to  see  how  Marcus  Aurelius  in  the 
year  164  was  cudgeling  his  brains  concerning  problems 
about  which  we  yet  argue  and  grow  red  in  the  face. 
The  Emperor  was  also  Chief-Justice,  and  questions 


io6 MARCUS   AURELIUS 

were  being  constantly  brought  to  him  to  decide.  From 
him  there  was  no  appeal,  and  his  decisions  made  the 
law  upon  which  all  lesser  judges  based  their  rulings. 
And  curiously  enough  we  are  dealing  most  extensively 
in  judge-made  law  even  to-day. 

One  vexed  question  that  confronted  Marcus  was  the 
lessening  number  of  marriages,  with  a  consequent  in 
crease  in  illegitimate  births  and  a  gradual  dwindling  of 
the  free  population.  He  seems  to  have  disliked  this 
word,  illegitimate,  for  he  says  "all  children  are  beau 
tiful  blesssings— sent  by  the  gods."  But  people  who 
were  legally  married  objected  to  this  view,  and  said  to 
recognize  children  born  out  of  wedlock  as  entitled  to 
all  the  privileges  of  citizenship  is  to  virtually  do  away 
with  legal  marriage.  As  a  compromise,  Marcus  decided 
to  recognize  all  people  as  married  who  said  they  were 
married.  This  is  exactly  our  common-law  marriage  as 
it  exists  in  various  states  to-day. 

However,  a  man  could  put  away  his  wife  at  will,  and 
by  recording  the  fact  with  the  nearest  praetor,  the  act 
was  legalized.  It  will  thus  be  seen  that  if  a  man  could 
marry  at  will  and  put  away  his  wife  at  will,  there  was 
really  no  marriage  beyond  that  of  nature.  To  meet  the 
issue,  and  prevent  fickle  and  unjust  men  from  taking 
advantage  of  women,  Marcus  decided  that  the  praetor 
could  refuse  to  record  the  desired  divorce,  if  he  saw 
fit,  and  demand  reasons.  We  then  for  the  first  time  get 
a  divorce  trial,  and  on  appeal  to  Marcus,  he  decided 
that  if  the  man  were  in  the  wrong,  he  must  still  support 


MARCUS   AURELIUS 107 

the  injured  wife.  Q  Then,  for  the  first  time,  we  find 
women  asking  for  a  divorce.  Now,  nearly  three-fourths 
of  all  divorces  are  granted  to  women,  but  at  first,  that  a 
woman  should  want  marital  freedom  caused  a  howl  of 
merriment.  Marcus  was  the  first  Roman  Emperor  to 
allow  women  the  right  of  petition,  and  the  privilege, 
too,  of  practicing  law,  for  Capitolanus  cites  various 
instances  of  women  coming  to  ask  for  justice,  and 
women  friends  coming  with  them  to  help  plead  their 
case,  and  the  Emperor  of  Rome,  leaning  his  tired  head 
on  his  arm,  listening  for  hours  with  great  patience. 
We  also  hear  of  petitions  for  damages  being  presented 
for  failure  to  keep  a  promise  to  marry — the  action  being 
brought  against  the  girl's  father.  This  would  bethought 
a  trifle  strange,  but  an  action  against  a  woman  for 
breach  of  promise  is  quite  in  order  yet. 
Recently  the  Hon.  Henry  Ballard  of  Vermont  won  heavy 
damages  against  a  coy  and  dallying  heiress  who  had 
played  pitch  and  toss  with  a  good  man's  heart.  The 
case  was  carried  to  the  United  States  Supreme  Court 
and  judgment  sustained. 

The  question  of  marriage  and  divorce  now  in  the 
United  States  is  almost  precisely  where  it  was  in 
Rome  in  the  time  of  Marcus  Aurelius.  No  two  states 
have  the  same  marriage  laws,  and  marriages  which  are 
illegal  in  one  state  may  be  made  legal  in  another.  Yet 
with  us,  any  court  of  jurisdiction  may  declare  any 
marriage  illegal,  or  set  any  divorce  aside.  What  makes 
marriage  and  what  constitutes  divorce  are  matters  of 


io8 MARCUS   AURELIUS 

opinion  in  the  mind  of  the  judge.  We  have  gone  a  bit 
further  than  Marcus,  though,  in  that  we  allow  couples 
to  marry  if  they  wish,  yet  divorce  is  denied  if  both 
parties  desire  it.  The  fact  that  they  want  it  is  con 
strued  as  proof  that  they  should  not  have  it.  We  meet 
the  issue,  however,  by  connivance  of  the  lawyers,  who 
are  officers  of  the  court,  and  a  legal  fiction  is  inaugu 
rated  by  allowing  a  little  bird  to  tell  the  judge  what  de 
cision  will  be  satisfactory  to  both  sides.  And  in  states 
or  countries  where  no  divorce  is  allowed,  marriage  can 
be  annulled  if  you  know  how — see  Ruskin  vs.  Ruskin, 
Coleridge,  J. 

Our  zealous  New  Thought  friends,  who  clamor  to  have 
marriage  made  a  difficulty  and  divorce  easy,  forget  that 
the  whole  question  has  been  thrashed  over  for  three 
thousand  years,  and  all  schemes  tried.  The  Romans 
issued  marriage  licenses,  but  before  doing  so  a  praetor 
passed  on  the  fitness  of  the  candidates  for  each  other. 
This  was  so  embarassing  to  many  coy  couples  that 
they  just  waived  formal  proceedings  and  set  up  house 
keeping.  To  declare  these  people  law-breakers,  Marcus 
Aurelius  said,  would  put  half  of  Rome  in  limbo,  just 
as  if  we  should  technically  enforce  all  laws  it  would 
send  most  members  of  the  Legislature  to  the  peniten 
tiary.  So  the  Emperor  declared  de  facto  marriage  de 
jure,  and  for  a  short  time  succeeded  in  striking  out  the 
word  illegitimate  as  applied  to  a  person,  on  the  ground 
that,  in  justice,  no  act  of  a  parent  could  be  charged  up 
against  and  punished  in  the  offspring. 


MARCUS   AURELIUS 109 

MEN  who  make  laws  have  forever  to  watch 
most  closely  and  dance  attendance  on  nature. 
Laws  which  fly  in  the  face  of  nature  are  gently 
waived  or  conveniently  forgotten.  Should  Chief  Justice 
Fuller  issue  an  injunction  restraining  all  men  from 
coming  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  a  woman,  on 
penalty  of  death,  we  would  all  place  ourselves  in  con 
tempt  in  an  hour ;  and  should  the  army  try  to  enforce 
the  order,  we  would  smother  Justice  Fuller  in  his  wool 
sack  and  hang  his  effigy  on  a  sour-apple  tree.  Law  is  n't 
worth  the  paper  it  is  written  on  unless  it  embodies  the 
will  and  natural  tendencies  of  the  governed.  Where 
poaching  is  popular,  no  law  can  stop  it.  Marriage  is 
easy,  and  divorce  difficult,  because  this  is  nature's  plan. 
The  natural  law  of  attraction  brings  men  and  women 
together,  and  it  is  difficult  to  separate  them.  Natural 
things  are  easy,  and  artificial  ones  difficult.  Most 
couples  who  desire  freedom  only  think  they  do :  what 
they  really  want  is  a  vacation ;  but  they  would  not  sep 
arate  for  good  if  they  could.  It  is  hard  to  part — people 
who  have  lived  together  grow  to  need  each  other.  They 
want  some  one  to  quarrel  with. 

Caesar  Augustus,  in  his  close  study  of  character,  intro 
duced  a  limited  divorce.  That  is,  in  case  of  a  family 
quarrel,  he  ordered  the  couple  to  live  apart  for  six 
months  as  a  penalty.  Quintilian  says  that  usually  before 
the  expired  time  the  man  and  woman  were  surrepti 
tiously  living  together  again,  at  which  the  court  quietly 
winked,  and  finally  this  form  of  penalty  had  to  be  aban- 


MARCUS   AURELIUS 


doned  because  it  made  the  courts  ridiculous.  Q  Men  and 
women  do  not  get  married  because  marriage  is  legal, 
nor  do  they  continue  living  together  because  divorce 
is  difficult.  They  marry  because  they  desire  to,  and  they 
do  not  separate  because  they  do  not  want  to.  The  task 
that  confronts  the  legislator  is  to  find  out  what  the 
people  want  to  do,  and  then  legalize  it. 
In  Rome,  the  custom  of  the  parties  divorcing  them 
selves  was  prevalent,  and  the  courts  were  called  upon 
to  ratify  the  act,  just  to  give  the  matter  respectability. 
Below  a  certain  stratum  in  society,  the  formality  of 
legal  marriage  and  divorce  was  waived  entirely,  just 
as  it  is  largely,  now,  among  our  colored  population  in 
the  South.  During  the  French  Revolution,  the  same 
custom  largely  obtained  in  France.  And  about  the  year 
150  in  Rome  there  was  danger  that  the  people  would 
overlook  the  Majesty  of  the  Law  entirely  in  their  do 
mestic  affairs.  This  condition  is  what  prompted  Marcus 
Aurelius  to  recognize  as  legal  the  common-law  marriage 
and  say  if  a  couple  called  themselves  husband  and 
wife,  they  were.  And  for  a  time  if  they  said  they  were 
divorced,  they  were.  But  as  a  mortgage  owned  by  a 
man  on  his  own  property  cancels  the  debt,  and  legally 
there  is  no  mortgage,  so  if  the  people  could  get  married 
at  will  and  divorce  themselves  at  their  convenience, 
there  really  was  no  legal  marriage.  Thus  the  matter  was 
argued.  So  Marcus  adopted  the  plan  of  making  marriage 
easy  and  divorce  difficult,  and  this  has  been  the  policy 
in  all  civilized  countries  ever  since. 


MARCUS    AURELIUS xxx 

It  is  very  evident,  however,  that  Marcus  Aurelius 
looked  forward  to  a  time  when  men  and  women  would 
be  wise  enough,  and  just  enough,  to  arrange  their  own 
affairs,  without  calling  on  the  police  to  ratify  either 
their  friendships  or  misunderstandings.  He  says, 
"  Love  is  beautiful,  and  that  a  man  and  woman  loving 
each  other  should  live  together,  is  the  will  of  God,  but 
if  there  comes  a  time  when  they  cannot  live  in  peace, 
let  them  part.  To  have  no  relationship  is  not  a  disgrace 
— to  have  wrong  relations  is,  for  disgrace  means  lack 
of  grace — discord,  and  love  is  harmony." 
Marcus  Aurelius  tried  the  plan  of  probationary  mar 
riages  ;  and  to  offset  this  he  also  introduced  the  Au- 
gustinian  plan  of  probationary  divorces — that  is,  the 
interlocutory  decree.  This  scheme  has  recently  been 
adopted  in  several  states  in  America  with  the  avowed 
intent  of  preventing  fraud  in  divorce  procedure,  but 
actually  the  logic  of  the  situation  is  the  same  now  as 
in  the  time  of  Marcus  Aurelius — it  postpones  the  final 
decree  so  as  to  prevent  the  couple  from  becoming  the 
victims  of  their  own  rashness,  and  to  give  them  an 
opportunity  to  become  reconciled  if  possible. 
So  anxious  was  Marcus  Aurelius  to  decide  justly  with 
his  people  that  he  found  himself  swamped  with  cases 
of  every  sort  and  description.  He  tried  to  pass  upon 
each  case  by  its  merits,  regardless  of  law  and  prec 
edent.  Then  other  judges  construed  his  decisions  as 
law,  and  the  lesser  courts  cited  the  upper  ones,  until 
Gibbon  says,  "There  grew  up  such  a  mass  of  judge- 


ii2 MARCUS    AURELIUS 

made  laws  that  a  skillful  lawyer  could  prove  anything, 
and  legal  practice  swung  on  the  ability  to  cite  similar 
cases  and  call  attention  to  desired  decisions." 
In  America  we  are  now  back  exactly  to  the  same  con 
dition.  A  lawyer  in  New  York  State  requires  over 
fourteen  thousand  law  books  if  he  would  cover  all  the 
ground;  and  his  business  is  to  make  it  easy  for  the 
judge  to  dispense  justice  and  not  dispense  with  law. 
That  is  to  say,  before  a  judge  can  decide  a  case,  he 
must  be  able  to  back  up  his  opinion  by  precedent. 
Judges  are  not  elected  to  deal  out  justice  between  man 
and  man ;  they  are  elected  to  decide  on  points  of  law. 
Law  is  often  a  great  disadvantage  to  a  judge — it  may 
hamper  justice,  and  in  America  there  must  surely  soon 
come  a  day  when  we  will  make  a  bonfire  of  every  law 
book  in  the  land,  and  electing  our  judges  for  life,  we 
will  make  the  judiciary  free.  We  will  then  require  our 
lawyers  and  judges  to  read,  and  pass  examinations  on 
Browning's  "  Ring  and  the  Book,"  and  none  other.  And 
if  we  would  follow  the  Aurelian  suggestion  of  remitting 
all  direct  taxes  to  every  citizen  who  had  not  been  plain 
tiff  in  a  lawsuit  for  ten  years,  we  would  gradually  get 
something  approaching  pure  justice.  The  people  must 
be  educated  to  quietly  and  calmly  decide  their  own  dis 
putes,  and  this  can  only  be  done  by  placing  an  obvious 
penalty  on  litigation.  Progress  in  the  future  will  consist 
in  having  less  law,  and  fulfilment  will  be  reached  when 
we  have  no  law  at  all — each  man  governing  himself, 
and  being  willing  that  his  neighbor  shall  do  the  same. 


MARCUS    AURELIUS 113 

Trouble  arises  largely  from  each  man  regarding  him 
self  as  his  brother's  keeper,  and  ceasing  to  be  his  friend. 
Marcus  Aurelius,  the  wise  judge,  saw  that  most  litiga 
tion  is  foolish  and  absurd — both  parties  are  at  fault,  and 
both  right.  And  to  bring  about  the  good  time  when 
men  shall  live  in  peace,  he  began  earnestly  to  govern 
himself.  His  ideal  was  a  state  where  men  would  need 
no  governing.  Hence  his  "  Meditations,"  a  book  which 
Dean  Farrar  says  is  not  inferior  to  the  New  Testament 
in  its  lofty  aim  and  purity  of  conception. 
Every  great  book  is  an  evolution:  Marcus  had  been 
getting  ready  to  write  this  immortal  volume  for  nearly 
half  a  century.  And  now  in  his  fifty-seventh  year  he 
found  himself  in  the  desert  of  Asia  at  the  head  of  the 
army,  endeavoring  to  put  down  an  insurrection  of 
various  barbaric  tribes.  Later,  the  seat  of  war  was 
shifted  to  the  North.  The  enemy  struck  and  retreated, 
and  danced  around  him  as  the  Boers  fought  the  English 
in  South  Africa. 

But  Marcus  Aurelius  had  time  to  think,  and  so  with 
no  books  near  and  all  memoranda  far  away,  he  began 
to  write  out  his  best  thoughts.  At  first  he  expressed 
just  for  his  own  satisfaction,  but  later,  as  the  work 
progressed,  we  see  that  its  value  grew  upon  him,  and 
it  was  his  intention  to  put  it  in  systematic  form  for 
posterity.  And  while  working  at  this  task,  the  exposures 
of  field  and  camp,  and  the  business  of  war,  in  which  he 
had  no  heart,  worked  upon  him  so  adversely  that  he 
sickened  and  died,  aged  fifty-nine. 


ii4 MARCUS   AURELIUS 

His  body  was  carried  back  to  Rome  and  placed  by  the 
side  of  that  of  his  beloved  adopted  father,  Antoninus 
Pius.  And  so  he  sleeps,  but  the  precious  legacy  of  the 
"  Meditations,"  written  during  those  last  two  years  of 
travel,  turmoil  and  strife,  is  ours. 
A  few  quotations  seem  in  order : 

Remember,  on  every  occasion  which  leads  thee  to  vex 
ation,  to  apply  this  principle:  not  that  this  is  a  mis 
fortune,  but  that  to  bear  it  nobly  is  good  fortune. 

Things  do  not  touch  the  soul,  for  they  are  eternal,  and 
remain  immovable;  but  our  perturbations  come  only 
from  the  opinion  which  is  within.  *  *  *  The  Universe 
is  transformation;  life  is  opinion. 

To  the  jaundiced,  honey  tastes  bitter;  and  to  those 
bitten  by  mad  dogs,  water  causes  fear;  and  to  little 
children,  the  ball  is  a  fine  thing.  Why  then  am  I  angry  ? 
Dost  thou  think  that  a  false  opinion  has  less  power 
than  the  bile  in  the  jaundiced,  or  the  poison  in  him  who 
is  bitten  by  a  mad  dog  ? 

How  easy  it  is  to  repel  and  to  wipe  away  every  im 
pression  which  is  troublesome  and  unsuitable,  and 
immediately  to  be  in  all  tranquillity ! 

All  things  come  from  the  universal  Ruling  Power,  either 
directly  or  by  way  of  consequence.  And  accordingly 
the  lion's  gaping  jaws,  and  that  which  is  poisonous, 
and  every  hurtful  thing,  as  a  thorn,  as  mud,  are  after- 
products  of  the  grand  and  beautiful.  Do  not  therefore 
imagine  that  they  are  of  another  kind  from  that  which 
thou  dost  venerate,  but  form  a  just  opinion  of  the 
source  of  all. 

Pass  through  the  rest  of  life  like  one  who  has  intrusted 


MARCUS   AURELIUS 115 

to  the  gods,  with  his  whole  soul,  all  that  he  has, 
making  himself  neither  the  tyrant  nor  the  slave  of  any 
man  dT  *T 

Never  value  anything  as  profitable  to  thyself  which 
shall  compel  thee  to  break  thy  promise,  to  lose  thy 
self-respect,  to  hate  any  man,  to  suspect,  to  curse,  to 
act  the  hypocrite,  to  desire  anything  which  needs  walls 
and  curtains. 

I  am  thankful  to  the  gods  that  I  was  subjected  to  a 
ruler  and  a  father  who  was  able  to  take  away  all  pride 
from  me,  and  to  bring  me  to  the  knowledge  that  it  is 
possible  for  a  man  to  live  in  a  palace  without  wanting 
either  guards  or  embroidered  dresses,  or  torches  and 
statues,  and  such-like  show ;  but  that  it  is  in  such  a 
man's  power  to  bring  himself  very  near  to  the  fashion 
of  a  private  person,  without  being,  for  this  reason, 
either  meaner  in  thought  or  more  remiss  in  action,  with 
respect  to  the  things  which  must  be  done  for  the  public 
interest  in  a  manner  that  befits  a  ruler. 

What  more  dost  thou  want  when  thou  hast  done  a 
man  a  service?  Art  thou  not  content  that  thou  hast 
done  something  conformable  to  thy  nature,  and  dost 
thou  seek  to  be  paid  for  it  ?  Just  as  if  the  eye  demanded 
a  recompense  for  seeing,  or  the  feet  for  walking.  As  a 
horse  when  he  has  run,  a  dog  when  he  has  tracked  the 
game,  a  bee  when  it  has  made  the  honey,  so  a  man, 
when  he  has  done  a  good  act,  does  not  call  out  for 
others  to  come  and  see,  but  goes  on  to  another  act,  as 
a  vine  goes  on  to  produce  again  the  grapes  in  season. 

Accustom  thyself  to  attend  carefully  to  what  is  said  by 
another,  &  as  much  as  it  is  possible,  be  in  the  speaker's 
mind  ar  jf 


116 MARCUS   AURELIUS 

Some  things  are  hurrying  into  existence,  and  others 
are  hurrying  out  of  it ;  and  of  that  which  is  coming  into 
existence,  part  is  already  extinguished.  Motions  and 
changes  are  continually  renewing  the  world,  just  as  the 
uninterrupted  course  of  time  is  always  renewing  the 
infinite  duration  of  ages. 

Understand  that  every  man  is  worth  just  so  much  as 
the  things  are  worth  about  which  he  busies  himself. 

"Wickedness  does  no  harm  at  all  to  the  universe, — it  is 
only  harmful  to  him  who  has  it  in  his  power  to  be  re 
leased  from  it. 

Nothing  is  more  wretched  than  a  man  who  traverses 
everything  in  a  round,  and  pries  into  the  things  beneath 
the  earth,  as  the  poet  says,  and  seeks  by  conjecture 
what  is  in  the  minds  of  his  neighbors,  without  per 
ceiving  that  it  is  sufficient  to  attend  to  the  deity  within 
him,  and  to  reverence  it  sincerely. 

The  prayers  of  Marcus  Aurelius  to  the  gods  are  for  one 
thing  only — that  their  will  be  done.  All  else  is  vain,  all 
else  is  rebellion  against  the  universe  itself.  Our  form  of 
worship  should  be  like  this:  Everything  harmonizes 
with  me  which  is  harmonious  to  thee,  O  Universe. 
Nothing  for  me  is  too  early  nor  too  late,  which  is  in 
due  time  for  thee.  Everything  is  fruit  to  me  which  thy 
seasons  bring,  O  Nature :  from  thee  are  all  things,  in 
thee  are  all  things,  to  thee  all  things  return. 

In  the  morning  when  thou  risest  unwillingly,  let  this 
thought  be  present — I  am  rising  to  the  work  of  a  hu 
man  being.  Why,  then,  am  I  dissatisfied  if  I  am  going 
to  do  the  things  for  which  I  exist,  and  for  which  I  was 
brought  into  the  world  ?  Or  have  I  been  made  for  this, 
to  lie  in  the  bedclothes  and  keep  myself  warm  ?  But 


MARCUS    AURELIUS 117 

this  is  more  pleasant.  Dost  thou  exist,  then,  to  take 
thy  pleasure,  and  not  for  action  or  exertion  ?  Dost  thou 
not  see  the  little  plants,  the  little  birds,  the  ants,  the 
spiders,  the  bees,  working  together  to  put  in  order  their 
several  parts  of  the  universe  ?  And  art  thou  unwilling 
to  do  the  work  of  a  human  being,  and  dost  thou  not 
make  haste  to  do  that  which  is  according  to  thy  nature  ? 

Judge  every  word  and  deed  which  are  according  to  na 
ture  to  be  fit  for  thee,  and  be  not  diverted  by  the  blame 
which  follows.  *  *  *  But  if  a  thing  is  good  to  be  done 
or  said,  do  not  consider  it  unworthy  of  thee. 

It  is  not  fit  that  I  should  give  myself  pain,  for  I  have 
never  intentionally  given  pain  even  to  another. 

Since  it  is  possible  that  thou  mayest  depart  from  life 
this  very  moment,  regulate  every  act  and  thought  ac 
cordingly.  *  *  *  Death  certainly,  and  life,  honor  and 
dishonor,  pain  and  pleasure,  all  these  things  equally 
happen  to  good  men  and  bad,  being  things  which  make 
us  neither  better  nor  worse.  Therefore  they  are  neither 
good  nor  evil. 

To  say  all  in  a  word,  everything  which  belongs  to  the 
body  is  a  stream,  and  what  belongs  to  the  soul  is  a 
dream  &  vapor;  and  life  is  a  warfare,  and  a  stranger's 
sojourn,  and  after  fame  is  oblivion.  What  then,  is  that 
which  is  able  to  enrich  a  man?  One  thing,  and  only 
one  —  philosophy.  But  this  consists  in  keeping  the 
guardian  spirit  within  a  man  free  from  violence  and 
unharmed,  superior  to  pains  and  pleasures,  doing 
nothing  without  a  purpose,  nor  yet  falsely,  and  with 
hypocrisy  *  *  *  accepting  all  that  happens  and  all 
that  is  allotted  *  *  *  and  finally  waiting  for  death  with. 
a  cheerful  mind. 


ii8 MARCUS   AURELIUS 

If  thou  findest  in  human  life  anything  better  than  jus 
tice,  truth,  temperance,  fortitude,  and,  in  a  word,  than 
thine  own  soul's  satisfaction  in  the  things  which  it  en 
ables  thee  to  do  according  to  right  reason,  and  in  the 
condition  that  is  assigned  to  thee  without  thy  own 
choice;  if,  I  say,  thou  seest  anything  better  than  this, 
turn  to  it  with  all  thy  soul,  and  enjoy  that  which  thou 
hast  found  to  be  the  best.  But  *  *  *  if  thou  findest 
everything  else  smaller  and  of  less  value  than  this,  give 
place  to  nothing  else.  *  *  *  Simply  and  freely  choose 
the  better,  and  hold  to  it. 

Men  seek  retreats  for  themselves,  houses  in  the  country, 
sea-shores,  and  mountains ;  and  thou  too  art  wont  to 
desire  such  things  very  much.  But  this  is  altogether  a 
mark  of  the  most  common  sort  of  men,  for  it  is  in  thy 
power  whenever  thou  shalt  choose  to  retire  into  thyself. 
For  nowhere  either  with  more  quiet  or  more  freedom 
from  trouble  does  a  man  retire  than  into  his  own  soul, 
particularly  when  he  has  within  him  such  thoughts  that 
by  looking  into  them  he  is  immediately  in  perfect  tran 
quillity — which  is  nothing  else  than  the  good  ordering 
of  the  mind. 

Unhappy  am  I,  because  this  has  happened  to  me?  Not 
so,  but  happy  am  I  though  this  has  happened  to  me, 
because  I  continue  free  from  pain ;  neither  crushed  by 
the  present,  nor  fearing  the  future. 

Be  cheerful,  and  seek  not  external  help,  nor  the  tran 
quillity  which  others  give.  A  man  must  stand  erect,  not 
be  kept  erect  by  others. 

Be  like  the  promontory  against  which  the  waves  con 
tinually  break,  but  it  stands  firm  and  tames  the  fury  of 
the  water  around  it. 


SO  HERE  ENDETH  THE  LITTLE  JOURNEY  TO  THE 
HOME  OF  MARCUS  AURELIUS,  BY  ELBERT  HUBBARD. 
BORDERS,  INITIALS  AND  ORNAMENTS  DESIGNED  BY 
ROYCROFT  ARTISTS,  PRESSWORK  BY  LOUIS  SCHELL, 
&  THE  WHOLE  DONE  INTO  A  BOOK  BY  THE  ROYCROFT- 
ERS  AT  THEIR  SHOP,  WHICH  IS  IN  EAST  AURORA,  IN 
THE  MONTH  OF  APRIL,  IN  THE  YEAR  MCMIV  *  4  4  4 


Carried  on  by  The  Roycrofters  at 
East  Aurora,  Erie  County,  New  York 

An  Inn  where  the  traveler  is  made 
comfortable  —  the  place  is  complete 
without  being  lavish:  steam  heat,  elec 
tric  lights,  running  water,  Turkish  baths, 
chapel,  physician,  library,  music  room, 
ballroom  and  wood  pile.  Lectures  or 
concerts  daily,  fj  Terms  to  Philistines, 
Twenty-five  cents  per  meal;  lodging, 
Fifty  cents.  Trains  leave  Central  Sta 
tion,  Buffalo,  N.  Y.,  every  little  while. 


LIFE  MEMBERSHIP 


IN  THB 


AMERICAN  ACADEMY 
OF  IMMORTALS  9999 

COSTS  TEN  DOLLARS 


NO  FURTHER  DUES  OR  ASSESSMENTS,  AND 
NO  LIABILITIES.  YOUR  DUTIES  CONSIST  IN 
LIVING  UP  TO  YOUR  IDEAL  (AS  NEARLY  AS 
POSSIBLE)  AND  ATTENDING  THE  ANNUAL 
DINNER  (IF  CONVENIENT), 


(1)  The  membership  entitles  you  to  one  copy  of  the 
Philistine   magazine    for  ninety-nine  years,  but  no 
longer. 

(2)  All  the  back  bound  volumes  of  "The  Philistine" 
we  have  on  hand. 

(3)  "Little  Journeys,"  beginning  with  current  num 
bers,  and  all  that  shall  be  issued  in  future. 

(4)  Such  other  books,  pamphlets,  addresses  and  doc 
uments  as  the   Roycrofters  may  elect  to  send  you 
Every  Little  While. 

(5)  Success,  Health  and  Love  Vibrations,  sent  daily 
by  the  Pastor  or  Ali  Baba. 

ADDRESS   THE   BURSAR,    EAST    AURORA,    NEW    YORK 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


194b 
JUN    S 
liMa/50Lt 


JAN  18  1357 


i  s 

'"**"^          C7^ 

a: 


LD  21-100m-9,'47(A5702sl6)476 


